


Mechanical Michelangelo

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Canon, Drama, Romance, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-24
Updated: 2006-03-31
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 73,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: What if Brian didn't find Justin when he ran away to New York in season 1? How would Justin cope on his own, in a strange city? Could his art be his only salvation?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

The skin was smooth beneath his fingertips, the constant buzz of the needle, music to his ears as he followed the design from his mind’s eye through his fingertips. “You OK down there John?” He asked as he dipped the nib into black ink and placed it next to a pert butt cheek. 

“I’m good, man,” John said as he carried on flicking through an old magazine. 

Justin bit absently at his lip, the design slowly emerging until the image of a demon trapped inside fleshy cheek was outlined. He sat back and rolled his shoulders, massaging the kinks from his strained muscles. “Your hours up mate, want me to book you in next week, same time?” 

John pulled up his trousers and looked over his shoulder, nodding his bald, tattooed head. “Sure thing, Jus,” He sauntered over to the counter and leaned over as Justin pencilled him into the book. “I’ll take another pot of tattoo goo.” 

Justin took the pot off the shelf and rang it up on the till, handing it over to John who slipped it into one of the many pockets on his pants. “You out tonight?” 

Justin shook his head, blond, silken strands falling in front of his eyes. “No can do, off to visit the ‘rents back in the Pitts.” His tone was light, but his mood was anything but. Tension filled his stomach as he locked the door behind John and walked into the back room where his boss sat smoking a joint and working on an entire back piece for another customer.

Justin didn’t even try to interrupt him as he worked, just stepped around him to gather his coat and bag, as slowly as he could, trying to delay the inevitable. The walk to his apartment was a short one, too short, and the hot water in the shower didn’t last long enough.

He didn’t know how he felt about returning to the Pitts. No, that’s a lie, if the dead weight in his stomach was anything to go by he was dreading it, not looking forward to it, or any of the memories it would bring with it. 

It was silly to feel so worried about returning to a place that he’d called home for the first seventeen years of his life, but he was. He’d left everyone on such bad terms...

He bent his head forward, wrapping his hair in a towel and tried to forget just who and what had brought him to New York in the first place.

His backpack was already packed, and all he needed to do was dress and get on the coach to hell. Why had he agreed to go back? He could have insisted his mother and Molly visit him here and she would have caved, just like she’d caved for the last three years. 

He slipped into a pair of worn black jeans and rooted through his t-shirts for a long sleeved shirt, he didn’t want to offend his mother after all. 

Dressed, he took a deep, shaky breath and knocked on his flatmate’s door. “Cam? You still OK to give me a ride to the bus station?” The door opened to a sleep tousled man, deep green eyes blinking at Justin until they managed to focus. 

“Ride! Yeah...hold on, need keys. Where’d I put my keys?” He went back into his room and Justin bit back a laugh.

“In your pants?”

Cameron looked back at him, “But where are my pants?”

“I don’t wanna know where in the hell your pants have been. I’ll wait in the living room.” Maybe Cam wouldn’t be able to find them and he’d miss the bus.

***

Unfortunately Justin didn’t miss the bus. He watched the world fly by in a dreary haze of grey. The closer he got to Pittsborough the darker the sky got. Justin ignored the voice of reason in his head that told him it was late evening and of course the sky would be getting dark.

No, he was returning home, there, he’d said it, *home*, for the first time in three years, and God had thrown down the welcome mat. 

Pulling out his sketchpad he concentrated on drawing battling demons getting burned by the flames of hell. This certainly wasn’t the type of drawings he’d pictured himself creating three years ago. He’d had high aspirations of attending PIFA, becoming a famous artist and seeing his art hung in galleries around the world. Things hadn’t turned out remotely like that. 

There was a certain amount of satisfaction seeing someone with your artwork embedded into their skin though.

So what if demons, movie stars and boobs weren’t his first choice of drawing, skin wasn’t his first choice of canvas either and he adored working with it, drawing on it and marking it for life. Knowing that something he’d created would be living, if only for a while.

He should be happy with what he’d accomplished. He was a damned fine artist and an even better tattooist, no need for feeling ashamed of not finishing high school of not going to college like he’d planned.


	2. Mechanical Michelangelo

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes as his mom hugged him almost as tight as the hugs Debbie used to give. He’d been a shitty son, he only hoped Molly caused less grief. “I’ve missed you sweetheart.” She said, tightening her arms yet again.

“I missed you too, mom.” And he had, he’d forgotten how safe he felt in his mothers arms. Sometimes he wished he could go back in time, back to when he was sweet sixteen and safely in the closet. “Where’s Molly?”

Jennifer eventually let Justin go, though she still clung to one arm. “Molly is at home cooking a welcome home dinner.” She sounded proud.

“What? The Mollusc can cook?”

“She’s certainly moved on from peanut butter sandwiches.” 

Justin felt a pang of remorse, he’d missed out on a vital part of his sister’s childhood, seeing them a couple of times a year just wasn’t enough. “Will dad be around?” He asked casually.

She squeezed his hand, “He’s away on business this week. He couldn’t get out of it...”

“It’s OK, you don’t have to make excuses. Besides, I'd rather it be just the three of us.” 

“So, what’s Mol cooking? She progressed to toast yet?”

Jennifer laughed, sounding younger than her years and more carefree than Justin had seen her in ages. “It’s so good to have you back, Justin, even if it is just for a week.”

 

****

As soon as he entered the condo his mother and sister now called home, Molly threw herself at him, before dragging him to the kitchen to show off her lemon chicken masterpiece. “See Jus? I followed the recipe myself, mom only helped a little. Will you pick me up from school tomorrow? Tamara doesn’t believe I have a big brother who lives in New York.”

Justin sat at the table and smiled, letting her questions and idle chatter pass over his head. It was good to be back, he’d definitely missed his family, even if he hadn’t missed the crap surrounding it. 

Molly put the dinner in front of him and sat opposite, knife and fork in hand, her eyes wide as she watched him take the first bite. He widened his eyes back at her, then closed them in over exaggerated ecstasy. “Wow Mol, you’re almost as good as me!” 

“Hah, better you mean?” She smirked proudly at him and began to eat her own dinner. Justin glanced at his mom, noticing how quiet she was, and smiled, knowing she’d missed seeing interaction between brother and sister, almost as much as he missed interacting. 

 

It took immense bribery and the promise of takeout after school to get Molly to eventually go to bed and leave the adults alone. Justin knew the conversation was coming, it was way passed overdue.

He curled up in the arm chair, pushing his sock covered feet down the side of the cushion, watching idly as his mom straightened magazines that didn’t need straightening. 

“We never really talked about it did we?” She said as she sat down opposite him. “You had your new life in New York and I didn’t want to pry and risk losing you again.”

“And you think we should have this conversation now?”

“We need things out in the open don’t you think? I’m not scared you’ll flee New York now, you have a job, even if I don’t approve.” She lent forward in her chair, her blue eyes, so like Justin’s glistening. “Why didn’t you come home Justin?”

She said it as though it was the only thing to do, Justin clenched his jaw, trying not to bite out an angry reply. “Home? What home? The only home I had split when I revealed I was gay and my own mother dumped me on my lover because she couldn’t deal.” This is why he’d put the conversation off, he didn’t want to tell his mother *that*. He’d felt angry about it for so long, and he knew that telling her would hurt her more than anything else. 

“Justin...It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrow.

“I didn’t know what to do. Your actions didn’t just affect you, they affected all of us. My whole world came crashing down around me, Justin, I didn’t know what to do.”

Justin ran his hand through his hair, pulling until he felt the sharp pain tingle along his scalp, he needed to feel something, to stop him lashing out at her even more. “I don’t want to argue with you. Maybe we should leave the past in the past.”

“Leave it in the past now I know you blame me?” She stood suddenly and paced back and forth, needing to do something. She couldn’t just sit there and talk to her son calmly about this. “Brian,” she blurted out, realising she’d said the one name she hadn’t wanted to mention to Justin at all. “He took advantage of you.”

“I was infatuated with him. He didn’t take advantage of me.”

Justin felt his stomach roll over as his mom mentioned Brian’s name. Just one mention, the sound of the syllables caressing the air, bought back a flood of emotion he’d buried a long time ago. “And even if he did take advantage of me, It wasn’t his job to give me a home. That was yours.” This conversation wasn’t going well. He was going to lose her again. Lose his mother when he’d worked so hard to get her back, to make her proud. He stood, pins and needles in his ankle making him stumble slightly. 

Jennifer reached out automatically to steady him and Justin placed his hand on top of hers. “This conversation is meant to be clearing the air. I don’t want to set us back. I love you...”

“I love you too, Justin. I know I made mistakes-”

“We both did.” He let his mother hold him and it was a proper hug, not of desperation or superficial happiness. This was the kind of hug love flowed from and Justin let himself melt into it.


	3. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin woke to the insistent ringing of his cell phone. He flung his arm out, letting his fingers search the bedside table, without opening his eyes. He eventually found it and flipped it open. “Yeah?” He mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“Did I wake you, Jus?” An amused voice asked.

“Bren?” Justin opened his eyes slowly and pulled his phone away from his ear, looking at the caller display. Seeing Bren’s name flash at him he put it back to his ear. “Why you calling so early?” 

“You left without saying goodbye last night, so I forgot to tell you about the tattoo convention.”

Justin had a sinking feeling about this. “What convention?”

“The one in the Pitts. Surely I mentioned it?”

His boss knew damned well he hadn’t mentioned it, he’d probably kept quiet on purpose. “What convention?” Justin repeated.

“It’s only a small one. One day long. I phoned Liberty Tattoos and told them you’d be in town. They were so excited that they asked if you’d join in the Art Fusion. I told them you’d be happy to.”

Justin groaned inwardly. “This is meant to be a family holiday.”

“It’s one day and it’ll be good for business. Come on Jus, you’re finally getting recognition as a tattooist. This is a great opportunity. Tomorrow ten am start.”

“Alright, I’ll do it, just stop going on and let me go back to sleep. I’ll speak to you later.” Justin switched off the phone, there was just no use arguing with the man, he got his way in the end. And it wasn’t such a bad conversation to lose. He just hoped his mom didn’t mind. 

Awake now, Justin got out of bed and pulled on some sweats, padding barefoot to the kitchen. He started the coffee automatically and pulled out a box of his sister’s overly sugary cereal.

“Justin, I didn’t think you’d be up yet, I was going to make you a decent breakfast.” His mom said as she eyed his bowl. 

“I’m good,” he said between mouthfuls, “Mol get off to school alright?” 

“She tried to persuade me she should have the week off with you, but I think I got through to her that it wouldn’t happen. Anyway, is there anything you want to do today?”

“Do you have anything in mind? I’m all yours.”

“I’m glad you said that, I thought we’d go to the art gallery, like old times.”

Justin chased the last dregs of his breakfast onto his spoon, “Sounds great. I have to go to a tattoo convention tomorrow, so I won’t be round too much. Hope you don’t mind.” He stood and swilled his bowl, not wanting to see her face.

“No more tattoos Justin! Promise me, you’ve disfigured yourself enough.” 

It was then Justin realised he’d forgotten to pull on a t-shirt to cover most of the *offensive* marks. He rolled his eyes at Jennifer and kissed her cheek. “I’ll most likely be doing the tattooing. Bren got me roped into joining the Art Fusion too.”

“Art Fusion?”

Justin shrugged as he poured himself a cup of strong coffee. “Something tattooists’ started up to show that we’re artists and not skin mutilators.”

“You’re definitely an artist sweetie, If only you’d stick to canvas.”

“Unfortunately canvas didn’t pay the bills.” 

Jennifer’s smile dropped slightly, before she pulled herself together and smiled brightly, in some ways her conversation with Justin last night had told her everything and nothing. She knew he was angry at her for dumping him on Brian, she knew he was successful now, but the year he ran away was still a complete blank up until the point he got in contact with her.  
In some ways she didn’t know what he’d done in that year. She was a bad mother, she should want to know, but she didn’t want the reality to out weigh her fears.

“I could come with you tomorrow. See my son in action?”

Justin winced inwardly. “I don’t think it’s your scene, mom, big butch tattooed guys. I won’t really have time to talk to you. I have a feeling I’ll be too busy either tattooing or taking part in the AF.”

“Well, you should take the car, so I know you get home safely. We could take Mol to see a movie when you get back, maybe?”

“That’d be great.” Anything, so she wouldn’t come along. Having his old life and his new life mix gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure he liked the lines blurring this much.

 

***

Justin tried not to wrinkle his nose up as he walked through the doors of Liberty Tattoos. Off-the-wall tattoo designs littered tables and were tacked onto the walls. Down the left hand side of the room four booths had been set up and Justin was surprised to see his name above one of them. 

Just how long had Bren been planning this?

“Sorry, you have to leave.” A flustered looking man ran towards him and tried to usher him towards the door. “We don’t open to the public until 10 am, how did you get in anyway?”

“I’m not public,” Justin said pulling his arm away and sticking out his hand, “I’m Justin Taylor,” he nodded his head towards the banner, “Mechanical Michelangelo.” The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked Justin up and down.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just, I mean, you, I wasn’t expecting you to look-”

“So young?” 

“Well...You do have a good reputation for one so young.”

Justin laughed and shook his head. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

“No, no, we’re almost finished setting up. You should meet Butch, Liberty’s owner and top tattooist,” he swivelled around, “Butch? Butch! Come here, Justin’s arrived.” 

An overweight man with green oriental tattoos, manoeuvred his way around the flustered people and grabbed hold of Justin’s hand. “Glad you made it, buddy.” He was definitely old school, Justin decided, looking at his tattoos. The detail was incredibly good, but Justin couldn’t help turn his nose up at the clashing colours. It was the artist in him. 

“We’ve got four top tattooists' taking part in the Art Fusion.” Bruce guided Justin to the opposite side of the wall, where four large canvases stood. “You’ll all start one, and change after half an hour. We’ll mingle with the guests first, sorry this is all a bit of a rush, but I couldn’t get hold of you to give you the plan.” 

I just bet, Justin thought. It was a good job Brendan McKay wasn’t there because he was seriously thinking of throttling his boss right now.


	4. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin piled his blond hair high on top of his head, out of the way of his eyes, in readiness for his first tattoo job. He went over his equipment, making sure everything was in order, then sat on the space age stool. 

“Justin’s come all the way from New York to join us today. He was an apprentice of Bren McKay.” Murmurs passed through the crowd as they recognised the name of one of the all time great tattooist's’. Bruce grinned like a proud father before continuing. “Of course, Justin made quite a name for himself in the world of underground tattooing before Bren dragged him from the gutter.” He turned and winked at Justin, showing him he was only joking. “So, who wants to be tattooed by Justin Taylor?” A rush of people pushed forward, one scrambling into the booth and plonking himself on the stool, giving the others a smug look.

Justin smiled at the man, giving him the once over and noticing the type of tattoos already covering his arms. “Any ideas of what you want?” Justin asked, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m stoked I actually managed to get you. I mean, I would have been pleased if one of the other guys tattooed me, but you’re part of the newer generation.” He pulled out a crumpled photo of Brandon Lee playing the part as Eric Draven. Justin was pleasantly surprised, he was expecting to see something along the lines of ‘I heart Mom’.

“Hey, nice picture.” Justin took it out of his hands and stared at it, calculating how he could transfer it to skin. “Where do you want it?” 

“On my back, between my shoulder blades.” 

“You know that this will probably take more than one session, to get all this detail right?” The man looked disappointed. “If Bruce agrees, I don’t mind coming in over the next week and carrying it on.” 

“You’d do that? Man, that would be great!”  
“Can I make a few suggestions though? Turn it into an original piece of artwork no one else will have?” He nodded enthusiastically and Justin carried on. “Instead of just a face shot do a full portrait shot. His face is interesting, the make up and scar compelling, but you want something a little different. He’d fit between your shoulder blades nicely.” Justin sketched as he talked, his fingers moving ahead of his mind as he thought back to the times he’d watched The Crow. “He played guitar in a band didn’t he? We could add that. And if I make it a little more stylistic, it would mirror the comic book as well as the film. See?”

The sketch was rough in Justin’s eyes, but his first customer seemed entranced by it. “Wow, I don’t believe you just drew that.” Eric Draven stood, with his head tipped back, wearing nothing but leather pants and a guitar strap over his chest. Rain crashed off his torso and showed off the bullet holes in his chest. 

Justin’s fingers itched to get started, the way they do when he was truly excited about something. He just had to draw it out, he could practically see already how it would look on skin.

“Let’s get started then. Alex by the way.” He said as he pulled the t-shirt over his head.

“Great to meet you Alex.” Justin swivelled Alex’s chair until his back was facing him and was relieved to see an utterly smooth back with no hair at all. Shaving the customer was a definite downside of the job. At his own studio he got the client to shave at home. He was a tattooist after all, not a beautician. 

Justin sketched a light outline on Alex’s back, he excelled at free form tattooing, but if his free form didn’t fit in with what the customer had in mind he was fucked. It was a poor reflection on what the tattoo would look like when it was finished, but it would give him a guideline and Alex an idea of what was to come. 

Justin leaned over and picked up a couple of hand mirrors, “Here.” He handed one to Alex and angled the other one to show the outline. “Is that OK for you? In the right place?”

“Man, that looks great, get to it!” Justin pulled the trolley with his tattoo gun and inks closer to him.

The gun felt familiar in his hand, as if the shape was made to fit his palm. The vibrations tingled up his wrist as he touched the tip to skin.

People crowded as close as they could get, but Justin blanked them out. He blanked Alex out until the young man was nothing but a living canvas, something on which he could create art. 

He seemed to know exactly when the pain would get too much, and stopped, it was like he was in tune with his canvas and knew exactly how to manipulate it to get the best picture he could possibly get.

The hour went by quickly, Eric Draven appeared in out line on reddened skin, each tiny pinprick building up until the figure of the comic book antihero, his arms out, head tipped back towards rain, guitar hanging to his side, was brought to life. 

After finishing the outline Justin handed Alex a sheet of paper with after care instructions on, not that he really needed it, but he had to cover his bases. “That’s it for today, the whole outline is done, and a little of the shading, but it definitely needs more work. Here’s my card and give me a call to get it finished. Get one of the guys to put a bandage on it when you‘re done looking.”

Alex stood and walked to the full-length mirror on the wall. “Wow, man.” He craned his neck to get a better look at it. A surge of people crowded round him to get a better look and Justin slipped out as Alex took in all the attention. 

He went back to his booth and cleaned down his gun, and put the inks back. “You know. I wasn’t sure it was you at first. Justin Taylor from New York. There are hundreds of them, believe me, I’ve looked.”

Justin froze and felt his heart jump into his mouth, his hands shook as he put the inks on the tray and turned around. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this. He wasn’t prepared at all. 

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, trying to compose himself for when he turned around. His face was as schooled as it was ever going to be. Trying to act as casual as he could he threaded a thumb through the loop of his jeans and leaned against the back wall. “How are you Michael?”

Michael snorted and shook his head. Justin watched a hundred emotions run riot behind his eyes. He hadn’t changed much in three years. Emotions showed on his face like words in a book, the complete opposite to the man he called best friend. 

“How am I? Jesus Justin...I’m so mad I could spit. You ran off, with Brian‘s credit card, you never called, we went out of our mind with worry.”

Justin gave a slow half smile, “Mikey, I didn’t know you cared,” he drawled. 

“Don’t confuse this with caring,” he crossed his arms, “What the hell have you done to yourself?” 

Justin raised an eyebrow, then played along and looked down to his own torso, covered by a thin black tank top covered in zips, each one slightly open, giving a peak of coloured the skin beneath. 

“Not the same little twink any more, huh?”

“You’ll always be the twink, no matter how you mutilate yourself.”

Justin rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the stools. Michael took that as an invitation to sit on the other one. When Michael kept silent Justin realised he was waiting for an explanation. An explanation Justin refused to give him. “Didn’t think this kind of thing would be your kind of scene.” Justin said, absently watching the tattooed crowd of misfits.

“Well, I didn’t think it’d be your scene either. Besides, I own the comic book shop next door.”

Justin heard the pride in his voice, he was impressed Mikey had managed to get out of the Big Q. “You’ve done well.”

“Yeah...you too.” He didn’t sound convinced. 

They drifted into an uncomfortable silence, the questions staying unsaid. 

“Justin, there you are, it’s time for the AF, you need to get to your canvas.”

“AF?” Mikey asked as Bruce pulled Justin away.

“Art Fusion,” Justin called over his shoulder as he went to stand with the other three tattoo artists.


	5. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin saw Mikey standing in the throng, his pale, untattooed body standing out more than his very serious expression. He should be thinking about what he was going to paint up there, not about a family he almost had.

“This is our chance,” Bruce started, making Justin jump a little. He blinked and tried to pay attention, “to show everyone who looks down on us--particularly those in the art world, that we are artists, that no one can beat us when it comes to free form. We don’t need to sign our work for it to be recognised, we work together.” The crowd cheered and Justin felt himself warming to Bruce a little more. Maybe he was being a bit of a snob. “You’re all going to watch something truly amazing take place here.”

“We’ll all work on a canvas for thirty minutes before swapping and swapping again, working on each different piece. Uniting our work. Working together. OK guys, lets get started.”

Justin stared at his canvas before picking up a paint brush and dipping it in oil paint. He painted from deep within, that place he’d locked away when he’d ran to New York and realised he really was on his own. 

That place that caged his self hate, the rage and the loneliness. It was a place he didn’t go to often, but seeing Michael somehow turned the key in the lock and he couldn’t help but start to draw the self portrait that had been bubbling to the surface for years.

Harsh brushstrokes crashed together on the canvas, melding together in a mass of blacks and greys. Anyone who was watching would think he was painting the kind of thing he was known for. A monster emerging from the page, curled in on itself, as if it too, hated what it was. Twisted fingers covered a grotesque face, bloodshot eyes peeking out from between them. 

The bell sounded too fast and Justin moved on to the next canvas, the smile he gave the other tattoo artist making his face ache. He looked at the dragon, bright green scales and yellow claws. 

Justin dipped his brush into an array of brightly coloured paints until he came up with a dark sludge colour. He painted the background swallowing the dragon. The darkness had more than just ears. It was made up of hundreds of creatures, each fighting each other to get to something live, something real. 

It was if a black cloud had followed Michael and settled over Justin’s head, he couldn’t seem to get passed it, his paintbrush was loaded with paint befitting his mood and he went with it, using hard, deft strokes, changing the oriental painting to something dark and disturbing. 

He thought he’d be worried about ruining another artist’s work, but he barely even noticed. He manipulated the bright dragon until it was fighting off the darkness. He was half way through painting a black claw ripping off scales when the bell went for a second time and he had to move on. 

They carried on for hours, swapping boards again and again, until Justin barely recognised the one he started. When Bruce had them stop Justin was back to his original painting, he saw himself suffocating below the strange swirls of colour, peeking out from behind life, letting it cover him up until no one could see the monster he really was. 

“You boys back at your original canvas?” Bruce asked and watched them all nod. He turned back to their visitors, a large proud smile on his face. “Now, the paintings all need names, and it’s only right that the *artists*,” he emphasised the use of artists and it didn’t go unnoticed, “get to name them. Justin?” He turned around and it took Justin a while to come out of his black mood and be that laid back, carefree tattooist people knew him for.

He stepped back and viewed the canvas again, saw the mingling of different styles, how they complemented each other, how they hid him from the real world.

“Hiding Behind Life,” Justin said, his eyes finding Michael’s automatically. Mikey was frowning and Justin took a certain amount of comfort from that. He didn’t want Mikey to be happy, or to have no feelings about his return. He wanted him to be as confused as he was, and he wanted to show him that he hadn’t had an easy ride. 

“Great choice. And there’s going to be a surprise for our talented artists. Something I’ve kept quiet until now. The GLC have asked to put our work in their next show. We’ll show ‘em all how it’s done!”

***

After talking to the enthusiasts and making contacts with other tattoo artists, Justin escaped outside for a cigarette, enjoying the moment to be alone. He’s lost Mikey amongst the crowd, there were other people with much more drive to meet him and he went with the flow.

He inhaled the nicotine, feeling slightly better than he had all day. This trip home wasn’t turning out to be what he expected. Flicking the nub end into the road with a flick of the wrist, he watched the slight glow get swallowed up by the damp weather and he intended to go back inside, he really did, but he found himself standing next door, looking at a huge window display depicting Spiderman and Daredevil.

So this was Mikey’s new domain. It fitted, Justin could picture him standing behind the counter telling a crowd of kids about the newest issue of whatever the craze was now. 

“Here you are.” Justin didn’t reply as he looked at the window. “So what do you think?” Michael stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder, almost touching.

“I’m happy for you.”

“So...What are you going to do now?”

Justin turned slowly and looked at Mikey, “Do? I’m going to carry on working on Eric Draven, I’m going to visit with my mom and sister, and then I'm going to go home.”

“Home,” Mikey said, as if he’d never heard the word before and was having trouble getting his tongue around it. “So, you class New York as your home now.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Don’t worry Mikey, I’m not going to go all stalker-guy on your best friend. I’ll be gone again soon. ”

Mikey snorted and ran a hand through his dark, cropped hair. “Typical, you’re just going to take off again. You could at least have the decency to go and see Ma, and Lindsey and Mel, they were sick with worry when you disappeared.”

“So, you want me to go say sorry to Deb, Lindz and Mel for making them worry. You don’t want me to say sorry to Brian then?” Mikey went to say something, then closed his mouth. Justin smirked. “I thought not. You want me to go speak to everyone, but who really matters. Why is that? Do you want to be the hero, the one to drag poor Justin by the ear to tell them sorry, so they’ll be thankful to you? Are you afraid that if I meet Brian we’ll end up at the beginning again?”

“The beginning?”

“Me in his bed. Come now Mikey, you can‘t have it both ways. If I‘m too say sorry to the gang, you’ve got to be pretty sure I’ll at least bump into your best friend.”

“Well, I, I think you owe everyone an apology, including Brian, you stole his credit card after all.”

Justin nodded in agreement and smiled coolly. “Yeah, I did, *his* credit card.”


	6. Mechanical Michelangelo

It was two days later before Justin made it to Liberty Diner. He wanted to see Deb again, but he would do it on his own terms, not on Michael’s. Deb had probably heard he was back in town by now, if Mikey was anything like his mother, that is.

His eyes strayed to the table the old gang used to occupy, but all he saw were strangers. He let out a sigh of relief and sat on a barstool and leaned his elbows on the tabletop.

He watched Deb for a little while, her loud appearance and even louder mouth warming his heart. “Can I get some service over here?” Justin said with a smile as she whirled around with a scowl on her face.

“Hold yer horses.” She walked up to him and it took her a while to recognise who he was. “Sunshine!” She practically leaned over the table to give him a bone-crunching hug. When she finally let him go she slapped him on the side of the head. “Three years, Sunshine and not even a phone call.”

Justin’s smile drooped slightly. “I asked mom to tell you I was alright.”

“Yeah you did, a year after you disappeared, you little shit.” She ignored the dings of the bell as she looked him over. “Fucking, Christ, Sunshine, what happened to the twink we all knew and loved?”

None of his tattoos were on display, a worn leather jacket covered his arms and matching tight fingerless gloves covered his palms. So it must be the hair and the twinkling of silver studs climbing his ears. “I’m all growed up,” he tried to joke.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far. Growing your hair, and if what Mikey says is true, all the tattoos in the world, won’t make you all growed up.”

“Deb, food!” She turned around and glared at the chef.

“Can’t you see I’m serving a fucking customer here?”

“What’ll it be, Sunshine?” 

“Burger, fries and a coke.” 

“Coming right up.” She ruffled his hair and went to place his order. 

The food came out quickly, but Justin had trouble getting it down, not even his mother had the ability to make him feel so small. Only Deb could make him realise how foolish he’d been back then. 

Leaving wasn’t the best way to deal with things, and he’d known that as soon as he’d arrived in a strange city with nothing more than a stolen credit card. It seems so clear to him now, he should have swallowed his pride and come home, tail between his legs, but back then, in his seventeen year old mind, he’d felt utterly abandoned by the people who were meant to love him the most.

So what if he made a big deal about leaving because of Brian and what happened at the loft, it was more a cry to his parents than anything. He wanted to be their kid again, to have no responsibility and he wanted to be with Brian. The best of both worlds.

Somehow in his jumbled up brain running away was the answer to everything. It would make them all stand and take notice. Only it didn’t happen that way. He shuddered, the food he’d consumed threatening to make a reappearance. 

He wouldn’t think of that night, he’d let too many old memories rise as it was, but he wouldn’t think about that *particular* night. Not in the light of day anyway. It haunted his nightmares enough as it was.

Unable to eat anymore he pushed his plate away, just as Debbie rushed passed with an armful of empty plates. She came to a halt when she saw the contents of his plate. “Holy shit, kid, you gotta eat more than that.” 

Justin shook his head, “Sorry Deb, I’m full up.” She snorted and gave him a strange look, before balancing his plate on top of the pile in her arms. “Dinner, my place, Sunday. You know the time.” She walked off without giving him a chance to say protest. 

Shit, this was not going as planned, he’d come to the diner in hopes that he’d get out of everything else. He wasn’t going to be in town long enough to visit with everyone.

“Deb,” he called as she hurried by, notepad in hand. “Look, I can’t make dinner, I really have to spend some time with my mom and Mol...”

“Then bring them with you. I expect you to be there, don’t be late.” And with that he was dismissed. 

Fuck. 

***

The dance floor was a sea of sweating limbs, each moving in time to the beat of the music. There was an array of different people there, each unique in their own way, creating a patchwork blanket of flesh.

He took a gulp of lukewarm beer, never taking his eyes off the mass of dancing men. To everyone who knew him it looked like any other, ordinary night, with him leaning over the balcony scanning for tricks. If anyone bothered to look close enough they would notice his eyes focused on one particular point below him.

Blond hair tangled around shoulders that used to be as pale as cream, used to be...his skin looked grey in the darkness, not even the colourful lights could detract from the almost sinister look the ink gave him. 

He took another gulp of beer and looked away, only for a second, and when he looked back, the blond was gone, the crowd swallowing the small space he’d previously taken. 

Anger rolled in his stomach like thunder and he banged down his bottle and pushed himself away from the railing, down the stairs, all the time ignoring the calls of his name.

The cool air was a shock after the hot, sticky air of the club, he didn’t like it, he was sobering up already. He stumbled slightly, in the direction of his car, stopping to light a cigarette and inhale deeply.

When he pulled the cigarette away from his lips he saw him, sweat dripping hair, an armless t-shirt that did nothing to hold the bitter night off. 

***

Justin pushed Alex into a taxi, with a chuckle, his new friend could not take his beer, for shit. He watched the taxi disappear around the corner and turned back towards Babylon, unsure whether he wanted to go back inside or not. 

He wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet, and the temptation of more alcohol and getting his dick sucked had him walking back to the entrance. He almost crossed the road, but he saw something vaguely familiar out of the corner of his eye, and he stopped short, taking another look. 

Illuminated by the hazy amber glow of the street lamp stood a tall brunette. Justin used the three years he’d spent in New York wisely, he schooled his features and walked towards him. 

His heart was beating fast and his stomach tightened upon seeing him, he pushed his emotions down until they were buried deep in the soles of his boots. Outwardly calm he approached his ex-lover, in much the manner he had approached Justin the first night they met. 

This was the night he’d been avoiding for so long, yet it was the night he’d been waiting for since the fateful time at the loft. 

He leaned against the streetlamp, his bare shoulder touching the leather of the other man’s jacket. With bravado he didn’t feel, he reached up and took the cigarette from Brian’s mouth and took a long drag before handing it back. Brian took it silently and finished it off, stamping the nub end under his boot. 

“Well, this seems oddly familiar,” Justin drawled.

“Yeah, if we lived in the twilight zone.”

There it was. The first conversation he’d had with Brian in close to three years. And the world hadn’t stopped spinning. In fact, Justin was almost sure the world had sped up, his heart jumped into his mouth and he swallowed repeatedly. 

There were so many things he should say, explain, but he couldn’t think of a single one. The conversations he’d planned for this very event all seemed so lame. After all, it had happened so long ago now that Brian probably didn’t care one way or the other.. 

“So, how you doin’?” Brian asked, and although he didn’t look at Justin, he took it as a good sign.

“Not so bad, how about you?” 

“Fabulous.” They fell into silence, Justin wrecking his mind for all his WASP conversation skills, annoyed that his upbringing was failing him now, when he needed it the most. “How very English of us, soon we’ll be talking about the weather.” Brian mocked.

Justin laughed slightly, this was not how he expected his first conversation with Brian to be like. He’d expected... well, more theatrics.

“Yo, Brian!” Someone called, it made them both jump and higher their heads, looking for the culprit.

A young kid sauntered up to Brian, his jaw length hair whipping into his eyes, making him squint slightly.

“Bri...” the kid started something, then realised Brian wasn’t alone and looked Justin up and down, a smirk on his face. “Fuck off, I saw him first.” 

Justin bit his lip, and tried his hardest not to laugh, but it bubbled over anyway. “Jeez. Brian, if there was a first come first serve policy, I would have tagged you years ago.”

“What the fuck does he mean by that?” The kid placed his hands on his hips angrily, his denim jeans riding low on his hips. 

“Very funny,” Brian looked at Justin for the first time and Justin felt his breath hitch. Fuck, surely the man should have aged, or started to go grey by now

Justin watched the pair with interest, saw Brian’s very asexual behaviour towards him. 

“Do your aunties know you’re out, Hunter?” Brian took hold of Hunter’s jacket and steered him in the direction of his car. “Let’s get you home.” Justin could imagine Brian use the same tone with Gus in another fifteen years. “See you at the family dinner.” He called to Justin.

“What the fuck? You invited a twink to Deb’s?” Hunter asked whilst struggling against Brian’s hold on him.


	7. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin decided against going back to Babylon, he returned to his mother’s condo and couldn’t quite get rid of the smile playing over his face. Why he was in such a happy mood, he wasn’t quite sure.

So his meeting with Brian hadn’t turned into a screaming match, but it hadn’t gone anywhere near to clearing the air between them. Then there was the kid, he’d have been jealous of him once upon a time, even if they weren’t fucking, and Justin knew they weren’t. 

There was something in the way Brian dealt with him that made Justin certain of the fact. 

Jen was still up when he arrived home, drinking a cup of hot milk in the kitchen. Justin had a feeling she was waiting up for him. “Did you have a good time?” she asked, her eyes straying to his tattoos as they always did when he left them on show. 

“Yeah, it was good. Alex and I decided to hit the bars.” Justin reached into the fridge and picked up a bottle of water, twisting the cap and taking a few gulps. Justin saw the small look of disgust pass over her face. He wanted to shout that going out to bars didn‘t always end with a fuck, though his almost did, and his mother had Brian to thank because it didn't. “What are you still doing up?”

Jennifer winced into her drink. “Molly isn’t feeling very well, I’ve been cleaning sick up.”

“She OK?”

“She should be, there’s a bug going around at school. If I hadn‘t been cleaning sick up off the floor I would have thought this was a ploy so she could have time off school to spend with you.”

“I’m sure Mols wouldn’t do a thing like that.” Justin said, though if she was as sneaky as he was she wouldn’t put it past him. 

Justin was sure she wanted to say more to him, to open up old wounds and carry on with the conversation they’d started earlier on in the week. “I’m heading off to bed, night mom,” he said hastily, doing his best to get out of whatever she’d planned.

Luckily she didn’t stop him and he moved quietly to his room, not wanting to wake his sister. He stripped off and snuggled under the covers, the cotton sheets cool against his naked skin. 

He’d faced Brian and survived. So what if they hadn’t talked about his reasons for leaving. Maybe they didn’t need to, maybe they could actually be friends. That was something they’d never been before. 

Justin went to sleep with a smile on his face, and it was the first uninterrupted sleep he’d had for three years.

***

“Are you sure it’s OK?” Jennifer asked her son as she grabbed her coat and handbag. “I swear, one week I wanted, and someone has to mess up.”

Justin stood and gently pushed her out of the door. “Go, I’ll look after Mol, I’ll clean up sick, I’ll even watch the Labyrinth with her.” 

Jen chuckled slightly, it was a sure sign her youngest was sick when she put on the Labyrinth. Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, Jen left, and Justin breathed a sigh of relief. He took the stairs two at the time and opened Molly’s bedroom door. She looked pale, and her hair was plastered to her forehead. 

“Jus, will you press play again, it finished. Oh, and can you stay with me.” 

Justin remembered a time when their father would do this, press the play button and snuggle on top of the duvet with her, holding her and making her feel safe. Justin wondered if he did that anymore. 

He waited until the Labyrinth was playing again and crawled over his sister, letting her cuddle into his side.

“I hate being ill,” she sniffed. “I’m missing all the good stuff. We were meant to go out and do stuff like we used to.”

“We can do all that stuff next time I visit.”

“When? When will you be coming home next? You haven’t been here for so long, I can’t even remember the last time it was I saw you here.” He pulled her closer to him, and pressed a kiss to her lank hair.

“I’m sorry, Mol, I’ll visit more often.”  
“But when though? See, you don’t know. Maybe you should just stay longer, so we can do all the fun stuff when I get better.”

“I have work, I can’t stay any longer. But I really do promise to visit more often, and maybe you and mom can visit me more often too.”

“It’s not the same though.”

“No, it’s not, which is why we should make the most of our time together now, even if you are sick. Tell you what, if mom agrees I could go get some henna and we could do a makeover.”

She scrambled out from under the sheets, her eyes excited. “Really? Oh, thank you, Jus!” She flung her arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

“Euw, germs,” Justin chuckled, but hugged her back anyway. He almost felt like he had his family back. 

“Can we do it today? Go get some henna now.” 

“Shut it, brat, I don’t think mom would be happy with me if she came back to find you all covered in ink, even if it does fade.”

They settled down together and Justin lost himself in watching David Bowie strut around in skin-tight clothing. Maybe this movie wasn’t so bad after all.

Molly lay with her head on his chest, fingers idly playing with the buttons on his t-shirt. “Jus?”

“Hmm?” He dragged his eyes from the TV screen and looked down at his sister.

“Why did you leave?” 

Justin wasn’t prepared for that question. He’d presumed his mom had talked to her about it, given her some edited version of the truth anyway. 

“I was pretty messed up, I needed to get my sh-stuff together.” What he didn’t tell Molly was, he’d expected to come back, he’d expected his mom and dad to realise how much they loved him.

“You stayed away a long time.”

“It took a long time for me to get myself together.”

“Was it because of dad?” She pressed. This was so not something he wanted to talk about with his little sister. “Because dad didn’t like Brian?”

“What do you know about Brian?” 

She snorted and gave him a ‘duh’ look. “I might have been young, but I was still in the house when he brought you home. I was there when he took you back too.”

“It wasn’t that dad didn’t like Brian as such, he just didn’t like me being--”

“Gay? Come on Justin, I’m not a kid any more. I know you like other boys.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” God knows what nasty things their father had tried to poison her with.

“Why should it? I like boys too.”


	8. Mechanical Michelangelo

Arms covered by a sedate, black, v-neck t-shirt, and palms hidden beneath soft leather, fingerless gloves, meant Justin was finally ready to face the music--on the outside anyway. 

There was already going to be too many eyes on him as it was. People that wanted an explanation on why he’d ran away. He could give them that at least, what he wasn’t willing to tell them was what he’d actually done when he arrived in New York. 

The outside of Debbie’s house was still the same, he knocked on the door and saw Vic pull the net curtain aside to see who it was before opening. Before he could say anything Deb came barrelling past him, “Sunshine, you’re late.” She scolded, pulling him into her arms.

“I’m five minutes early,” Justin said with a smile over her shoulder to Vic.

“Well if we’re gonna get fucking pedantic over it, you’re three, fucking, years late!” Justin let that one slide, there was nothing he could really say.

“It’s good to see you, kid,” Vic said, patting him on the back.

“You too.”

Debbie pulled him into the living room and pushed him through the door, the first thing he saw was Gus, sitting on the floor, toys scattered around him, and Brian actually sitting amongst the mess, crashing a toy car against Gus’. 

Justin felt awkward as he stepped further into the living room. The conversation had stopped mid-sentence and the only noise was that of crashing toy cars.

“Oh great, Brian’s trick came,” Hunter said bitterly, sliding further down into the well-worn chair. Justin ignored him though, and looked around at the people who he’d run away from years before. 

Linz sat behind Gus, Melanie at her side, a glass of wine half way to her mouth. 

Emmett gave a small shriek and covered his mouth with a hand, the other clutching Ted’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Hey guys,” Justin said to the crowded room.

“Sunshine,” Brian said with false enthusiasm, making Justin wonder if the guy he’d spoken to on Liberty Avenue was really Brian at all.

“Brian.” Justin said calmly, trying not to show any of the emotions he felt racing through his veins. 

“Fuck.” Hunter said, sitting up straight in his chair, as if he had found out something important. “I know who that is. It’s the kid you’ve all been talking about, the one that ran away.” 

Justin chuckled at being called a kid by someone obviously younger than himself and stepped past everyone towards him. “Now you’ve stopped pissing up Brian’s leg maybe we could introduce ourselves.” He held out his hand “Justin.”

“Hunter.” He took hold of Justin’s hand reluctantly.

Lindsey, realising she was staring, got up, stepping over a pile of toys before reaching him. “It’s good to see you, Justin. I‘m glad you‘re OK.” She pulled him into her arms, which were filled with a lot more tension than Debbie’s had been, but Justin returned the hug anyway.

“You too, Linz, all of you.” 

With Lindsey breaking the ice, the others came over to hug him, the unasked question hanging in the air.

Lindsey felt a slight tug on her skirt and looked down at her son. “Mommy, he play cars?” Gus asked, looking from one to the other.

Lindsey chuckled and leaned down, picking him up. “Gus, this is Justin.”

Gus looked at Justin shyly, a car clutched in one palm. “You like cars?”

Justin nodded seriously. “I love cars.” Gus grinned happily at him and handed Justin a car, before struggling out of his mother’s arms and onto the floor.

Justin looked at the car in his hand and at the little boy he’d helped name. He then looked at Brian, who just raised his eyebrow and went back to racing cars around the patterns in the carpet.

Taking a deep breath he sat down opposite Brian and started to join in silently, feeling the tension in his arm as Brian crashed his car against Justin’s, making the little boy laugh. He was the only one who was.

“I hear you’re a tattoo artist now?” Melanie said, sitting back down on the sofa, pulling Lindsey with her.

“Not that you can tell today. Not proud of your art Sunshine?” Brian said, his lips lingering on Sunshine, making Justin uncomfortable. He was beginning to hate the nickname Debbie had given him.

Justin looked up briefly, “I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Yeah well, maybe you should have thought about that three years ago,” Michael said as he burst through the door. “Sorry we’re late Ma, I had to stop by the shop,” he called out to Debbie in the kitchen as he made himself comfortable on the sofa.

A tall muscular figure followed shortly behind, looking utterly at home. His eyes fixed on Justin quickly and he smiled. “You must be Justin, nice to meet you, I’m Ben, Michael’s partner.”

Justin wanted to offer his commiserations, but settled for shaking Ben’s hand instead.

“Now you’re all here, get your asses into the kitchen!” Debbie shouted from the kitchen.

Justin got up off the floor and watched from the corner of his eye as Brian picked his son up and placed him in Lindsey’s arms. 

Unsure where he should sit, Justin took his time walking into the kitchen, and gave Emmett a smile of relief as he sidled up next to him and took his arm.

“Don‘t you think a tattoo would suit me? One on the butt cheek, what do you think Teddy?” He called over his shoulder.

Teddy didn’t look too thrilled with the idea, and mumbled a reply that seemed to make Emmett happy.

Everyone was quiet as the food was passed around and then Justin felt the eyes back on him. He forced the pasta into his mouth and pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“How did you get into tattooing, Justin?” Mel asked, “I didn’t think that was your ultimate goal.”

He shrugged, “I got interested in it, and met a guy who agreed to teach me.” He skimmed the surface of his introduction into tattoos so much so it was barely the truth.

“Yeah, fuck a guy with a few tattoos and they get kind of addictive,” Brian said with a smirk.

“I think we should forget the small talk and you should tell us exactly what you were thinking when you stole Brian’s credit card.” Michael speared his pasta on the end of his fork, all the time glaring at Justin.

“If it was your credit card, you’d have the right to ask me about it, but as it wasn’t, you don’t.” 

“It is my business, we went looking for you--”

“Michael,” Brian warned.

“And all we found was a twink in a hotel room using Brian’s card.”

The world seemed to crash around Justin’s head, blood rushed to his head and his hands started to shake. He hadn’t known that. If only...Brian would have found him...and brought him home. He shook his head, hoping the roaring sound would disappear.

“I lost the card, didn’t know where it ended up.” It was a lie and they all knew it, Justin didn’t care, he wasn’t telling them the truth. 

“I’m sure Justin forgot all about us and my card after finding himself a hot hole to fuck for the night.”

Sometimes, Justin hated Brian almost as much as he had loved him. He glared over at the older man, he wasn’t some kid anymore, he could stand up to himself, he was Brian’s equal, or as equal as anyone could be with Brian.

“You always were a shit in front of your friends. Why is that?”


	9. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian answered the question the only way he knew how, tongue in cheek and silence. Justin ignored the lack of answer and carried on, choosing his words carefully. “What surprises me is, why I’m the only one that left you and your bullshit behind.”

Brian laughed, the kind of laugh that was void of all humour. “I think you’ll find I kicked you out.”

Justin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you kicked a seventeen-year-old kid out on the streets.”

Michael slammed his knife and fork down on the table, his eyes blazing in Justin’s direction. “You forgot to set the alarm to the loft and it was burgled. Brian had every right to do what he did.”

“This isn’t anything to do with you Michael,” Justin warned. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with Debbie in the room, she was his mother after all. 

“It is to do with me--” Michael started, but was cooled slightly by Ben’s hand on his arm, but it didn’t stop him for long enough. “ You stole his credit card.” 

He was becoming like a broken record. Justin looked at the young kid, Hunter, and knew from the snippets of conversations he’d heard that Michael and Ben had taken him into their home. Maybe the circumstances were different between him and Hunter, but he couldn’t help but notice the similarities as well.

“How old is Hunter?”

Michael frowned at the question. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’m almost seventeen.” Hunter piped up before going back to his pasta. 

“And you’re looking after him right?” Justin looked from Mikey to Ben, and back again. “You’d stand by him no matter what shitty mistakes he made?”

“Of course, I don’t see why we’re talking about us. We were talking about how you treated Brian.”

“Mikey...” Brian started, getting fed up with the conversation.

Justin ignored Brian and spoke over him. “Maybe we should be talking about how Brian treated me.”

“Yeah, about how I gave you a place to stay and a cock to suck?” Brian raised his eyebrow and waited for Justin to go on.

“And how you outed me at school, how you strung me along, pushed me away, pulled me back all at once?” If Brian wanted to do this in front of his family, he’d do it properly. “I was a little older than Hunter is now. How come I didn’t rate the same compassion? So what if we were fucking and not having father and son bonding sessions. I was still a teenager that needed a break.” That was directed mostly at Mikey, but the others looked uncomfortable too. 

“You can’t compare your country club life to Hunter’s situation,” Mikey said angrily. 

Justin clutched the edge of the table and leaned forward slightly. “Was it because I got to suck your best friend’s cock and you didn’t? It’s safe to look after Hunter because you’re pretty damned certain he’ll never get that.”

“Hey!” Hunter protested before quieting, realising no one was paying him the least bit of attention. 

“That’s a fucking, ‘nough!” Debbie screamed, standing up, her chair screeching along the lino and her fists banging on the beaten wood of the table. 

Taking his cue from Debbie, Justin stood up and looked down at Brian. “I was seventeen, Brian, and you kicked me out, knowing full well my mother had dumped me on you and didn’t want me. Where did you expect me to go? Ok, maybe stealing your credit card and running to New York was a scream for attention, but I think I had a pretty good push between you, my mother and father.”

He pushed his chair under the table, his hands only shaking a little, and walked to the door. A few steps and he could break down, just get out of the house first. He looked back at Debbie, feeling awful that he’d blown up here, at her family dinner. 

“I’d say its been a pleasure, but it really hasn’t.”

He opened the front door and sucked in a lungful of cool, crisp air, before starting the walk back to his mother’s condo. 

“Fuck, Justin, this is just like you, run off at the first sign of trouble.” Brian jogged up behind him, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.

“Brian Kinney, chasing after a former trick, who’da thunk?” Justin said dryly, the joke falling flat.

“You could have called someone to come get you.”

He shrugged his arm free and laughed. “Three weeks sleeping rough and I finally got the bottle to call home.” Brian’s eyes widened. “Not the loft, my mom’s. Dad answered and said it would be best if I stayed away.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I expected more from you, I was so sure you’d come and get me.”

“We tried, we found some strange twink using my card.”

“How long did you look after that? One day, two?” Brian attempted to look guilty.

“What the hell happened, Justin?”

Justin shook his head, couldn’t stand the concern in Brian’s voice. Where had it been when he’d needed it? “I’m not telling you a thing. You couldn’t act like you cared in front of your family, fuck if I’m confiding in you now.”

Justin walked faster, glad he couldn’t hear Brian’s footsteps. 

“You’re the one who fucked up Justin, you need to realise that.”

Shit. Well, that had gone swimmingly. The wind blew his hair upwards, blond locks tangling and whipping in front of his eyes, distorting his view. Justin didn’t care, he pushed his hands further into his jean pockets and walked away from Brian and his family.


	10. Mechanical Michelangelo

Over the next two days Justin immersed himself in family. If he concentrated on his mom and Molly he wouldn’t have so much time to think. It was a good theory anyway. He wanted so desperately to be numb right now, but his mind was not cooperating. He replayed numerous events, each with a different outcome, the darkness of his room making each one as believable as the next. He pictured Brian finding him in that hotel room, of the older man dragging him home, of going to school and finishing top of his class, even going on to PIFA. They were meaningless thoughts, but he just couldn’t stop them from coming. 

His mom hadn’t asked how dinner went, one look at his tightly drawn face made her keep quiet. She hadn’t knocked on his door once yet, so that probably meant she had the whole horrifying story off Deb already.

He shouldn’t care about what happened, they’d stopped been friends a long time ago. He had other friends now, strangers he’d met at a low time in his life, who had pulled him out of the spiralling abyss.

The darkness became cloyingly thick around him, reminding him of the nights he’d never had a roof over his head. His palms started to tingle and he pulled his gloves off, rubbing his palms against his thighs, trying to relieve them. 

His heart started to beat painfully fast and Justin fumbled for his phone, flipping it open and pressing in a number without looking. He waited impatiently for the other person to pick up.

“Porn Rats, how may I service you?”

“Talk to me Cam.”

“What’s wrong, Jus?” Cameron asked worriedly. “Have you done something stupid?”

Justin snorted down the phone. “The rule was to call you before I did something stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was, just like old times. I’m glad you did. What’s got you so riled up?”

“Fucking Pittsburgh. I just had a showdown with Brian and his family.” Justin admitted. “It didn’t go well...I feel, shit, you know.” Justin bit his lip and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to say the actual words. Cameron knew exactly what he was talking about, he’d been there after all.

“I know, man. Just, take a deep breath and don’t let them get to you.”

“I can’t wait to come home.” Cameron stayed quiet a moment too long, making Justin suspicious. “What the fuck has Bren been up to?”

“I didn’t say a thing.” Cam said in a pseudo innocent voice.

“And that is what’s bothering me.” Justin drawled, wondering what the hell his boss was up to now. “Gotta go, see you.” He hung up on Cam without waiting for an answer and phoned Brendan, knowing he’d still be at the studio.

“What the fuck have you done?” Justin asked in greeting. 

“Now, now Justin, I’ve been as pure as the driven snow. Have you been talking to Cam?”

“I’m going to be home in a few days, just tell me what you’ve done so I can prepare.”

“Well...” Bren drew it out. “I thought you could stay a little, represent Mechanical Michelangelo at the GLC.”

“No, oh so, no. I went to the convention, I took part in the Art Fusion and now all I wanna do is come home.” Sink myself into work and forget I ever knew Brian. 

“Justin, this could put us on the map.”

“An art show in the Pitts? I doubt it.” Only someone from New York could seriously think that.

“All sorts of tattooists are going to see the Art Fusion. Stay and mingle. Just two more days, Justin. Then you can come home and you’ll be booked solid for three months.”

“I hope by booked solid you’re taking into account my days off.” Justin grumbled, lying back down on the bed.

“Of course. Thanks Justin, this will be great.” Justin ended the call and sighed, he could never resist Bren when he got all excited about the studio. It looked like he was staying here a little longer. He just hoped he could avoid Brian and friends. 

Justin dropped his phone onto the pillow next to him and drifted off to sleep, not even realising that the panic he’d felt earlier had disappeared.

 

***

It looked like Justin wasn’t the only tattoo artist roped into attending the GLC gallery. He chatted briefly to the guys he’d met at the Art Fusion, making wonderful contacts for Bren and then mingled. 

He couldn’t help but think back to his first show. His art work had changed drastically, the only similarities from both shows was the feeling in the bit of his stomach. 

Feelings like he would never be good enough. His art had always brought him and his mother closer together, little did he realise, that from his first show it would start pushing them apart. 

He looked over at her, the calm collected woman that had birthed him. She held onto Molly’s hand, and spoke to someone, smiling pleasantly and nodding at the appropriate moment. Justin saw underneath it all though, he saw something else, something not quite disgust, but not quite acceptance either. 

He didn’t notice Lindsey until she was standing in front of him. “Hey, Justin,” She said nervously.

“Lindsey,” he replied politely, nodding and stepping past her, she touched his arm, stopping him.

“Justin...I just want to apologise for the other night.”

“You don’t need to do that, Linz.”

“I do, I just, I didn’t know what to say. But I know what to say now. I don’t want us to lose contact. I want to be able to bring my family to New York and look up an old friend. Got it?” 

Justin looked into her eyes and saw she was sincere. He gave her a half smile and placed his hand over hers. “That’d be nice Lindsey. We’ll swap numbers.”

“Good, now, how about you show me your piece.” She linked her arms with his and started to walk into the middle of the gallery, where the four canvases were mounted back to back.

“None of them are mine, but I did paint a little on each.” They were quiet as they studied the paintings. Justin had forgotten how good it was to go to a gallery with someone else who appreciates art like he did.

“These are fantastic Justin. The different uses of technique are stunning.”

“That’s what you get when more than one person works on a canvas.”

“Tell me about that. I don’t really understand what Art Infusion is. Bruce tried to explain, but I admit I zoned out.”

“It’s just a way of uniting tattoo artists, so we can show more conventional artists that we’re more than just the canvas we work on.”

“You’re definitely more, so much more, Justin. I won’t ask you the question everyone is dying to ask you, because it’s none of my business and I want to move forward, Just don’t disappear on me again.”

“I won’t Linz.”

“And maybe I can shed some light on the all and powerful Kinney. He is sorry for what he did back then, he was really worried about you.”

“And he told you this?”

Lindsey chuckled and shook her head. “Brian doesn’t talk about anything emotional, you just have to read between the lines.”

Justin wished he’d remembered that, maybe if he had, he’d have had the guts to ring Brian when he needed him.


	11. Mechanical Michelangelo

(Notes: I'd like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed, who has emailed me and left feedback on my live journal http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=mohawking , your kind words mean a lot, you're the best!;-)

* * *

Justin knew he was there without even turning around. Practically every nerve ending was screaming it out to him. He wanted so badly to turn around, but he refused, he wouldn’t make a big deal of it. He could see Brian walk towards them in the reflection of the glass, stooped low and holding Gus’ hand. Justin’s heart jumped into his mouth.

“Mommy!” Gus screamed when he spotted Lindsey, letting go of Brian’s hand he ran over to her and she leaned down, picking him up and giving him a huge hug. Justin had the feeling he’d been well and truly set up. All pretence of conversation was over as Brian made his way over.

“Lindsey,” Brian said by way of greeting. “Now I understand why you wanted me to bring him over here instead of dropping him off home.” Brian’s gaze landed onto Justin, it looked like Brian knew this had been a set up too. 

Lindsey shifted Gus on her him and couldn’t hide a slightly guilty look. “I, we...Mel!” She nodded towards the door when she spotted her partner. 

“Hey, Justin,” Mel said, as she came over, not exactly sure of her welcome she settled on giving him a warm smile.

He forced himself to smile back, knowing that if Brian hadn’t been there he would have leaned over and kissed the lawyer’s cheek, at least. 

“We’re going out straight from here, no time to go home first. Must dash. Bye sweetie,” Lindsey blurted out in a rush, pulling Mel along with her free hand she left them alone. 

They stood in silence for a while, Justin made a pretence of studying the painting opposite them, pretending to get lost in the swirls of colour and the strong brushwork. He couldn’t see a thing though, he was too aware of Brian standing inches away.

“I thought you’d be back in New York already.” Brian stepped closer to the painting, touching the frame briefly.

“Stayed on to do a little business.” He knew as soon as he uttered the word business that the older man wouldn’t take him seriously.

“Business?” Brian turned towards him and Justin glared, his piercing blue eyes flashing with annoyance. 

“Business,” he confirmed, “I’m not that seventeen-year-old twink any more, I work full-time, just like you.”

“Of course you do,” he said, tongue in cheek. He was just about to say something else when someone pushed past him and took hold of Justin’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

“Justin, It’s Denton, great to put a face to the voice.” Denton was a tall, muscular built man, his skin covered in a battle of cruel looking goblins in the middle of battle. 

“Den, I didn’t realise you were going to be here.”

“Yeah, I’m on holiday, thought I’d pop by.”

“You can’t stop working even while on holiday?” Justin laughed and pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“Can’t miss an opportunity, now can I? How about you? What brings you to the Pitts?”

“Holiday.” 

Denton laughed and clapped Justin on the back. “ I really have to dash off, Bruce is going to show me his equipment.” He had a glint in his eye. “But you have to come to my studio on California, we need to swap techniques.”

“I’m booked solid for the next three months, but we’ll work something out after that. I’ll call you.”

“See you around, man,” Denton went off in search of Bruce, and Justin was again, alone with Brian.

“If I hadn’t known you were talking about tattooing,” Brian said, with just a hint of suggestion in his voice.

“I may not be an ad exec, or work in a fancy office. I may not have finished school and I may never go to college, but I am successful. People want me to train them, they want to learn my techniques, so I’m not Brian Kinney. I’m something different, unique, better. I’m Justin Taylor.”

“My my, haven’t we gotten full of ourselves.”

Justin smiled with satisfaction. “With good reason.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

“Hell yeah.”

 

***

Brian slid open the door to his loft and Justin stepped over the threshold, unzipping his jacket and flinging it across the floor to land on the pristine white sofa. He unbuttoned his jeans, sliding the denim down his hips.

The older man stood quietly, watching the show. Justin stepped out of his pants and smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “Well? Surely you didn’t bring me here to talk?” He goaded. 

Brian took two steps towards him, and crushed his chest against Justin’s, his well-tailored clothes crumpling between them and snagging on the zips scattered over Justin’s t-shirt. 

Justin watched Brian’s lips descend on his, just the thought of those lips on his sent blood rushing south. 

Their lips clashed, teeth scraping delicate skin, Justin felt a hand in his hair, tangling and crushing his skull closer. He stood up on tiptoes, pushing his body even closer to Brian’s and plunging his tongue into Brian’s mouth. 

He tasted so familiar, yet so different. Justin couldn’t put his finger on it, and he didn’t care enough to ponder. He lost himself in their kiss, finesse forgotten as they tasted one another, open mouthed, wet and fast.

Brian ran his hands down Justin’s back, feeling his spine, and cupping his cotton covered butt in his palms, pushing their groins closer together, until Justin could feel Brian’s erection.

Delicate, well trained fingers unzipped Brian’s fly effortlessly, pushing them off his hips enough to get his hand inside. He felt warm velvet against his fingertips and ran them gently from head to base.

Brian groaned into Justin’s mouth, making his own cock pulse with need. Teasingly, he ran the tips of his fingers around the head of Brian’s cock, relearning the feel of it until he grasped the length in his palm, warmed leather sending Brian into sensation overload.

Brian stepped back, letting Justin’s hand slip from his crotch and spun him around. Justin braced himself against the wall, feeling Brian’s hands roughly pull his boxers down enough to gain access.

He heard the tear of foil and braced himself, it had been so long since he’d had sex, a pleasurable fuck with someone he knew he could love if he let himself.

A finger trailed down over the smooth globes of his ass, the urgency from before abated as it found his centre, spreading lube around his hole before sliding in. 

Justin groaned and let his head fall forward to lean against the cool brick. His blond hair fell around him, creating a waterfall of shimmering gold in which he could lose himself.

Large hands gripped his hips, fingers digging into the flesh just underneath his t-shirt. Thumbs parted his ass and he felt the probe of cock. Scorching hot as it sunk into him. 

The burn fed every nerve ending as Brian worked himself inside, rotating his hips and pushing himself in to the hilt. He stopped as his chest was flush against Justin’s back, gasps of hot air blowing strands of golden hair against the brick.

Justin closed his eyes and revelled in the feel of Brian inside him. His cock strained towards the wall and he jumped backwards, impaling himself even further onto Brian as he felt fingers snake around one sharp hip and grasp his hard length.

It had been so long since he’d felt anyone do that.

He forced his hips backwards as Brian plunged back inside him and jerked him off erratically, rhythm forgotten as pleasure over took everything else. It wasn’t beautiful, it was harsh, angry, punishing and it was the most real fuck he’d had since the last time Brian had been inside him.


	12. Mechanical Michelangelo

With a slight turn of the hip Brian’s softening cock slipped out of Justin, leaving the younger man feeling somewhat empty and alone, even as Brian slumped over his back, hands gripping the front of his t-shirt as his breathing returned to normal.

Justin closed his eyes and committed the feel of Brian’s weight pressed against him to memory. He never wanted to forget what it was like to be with Brian again, he wanted to remember the shape of his cock and how it fitted deep inside him perfectly. He wanted to remember the taste of his skin, the feel of his teeth against his tongue, because he knew he couldn’t keep doing this. 

There was no way he could turn the clock back, and just been around Brian reminded him of all the what ifs. He slipped out from under Brian’s arm and walked calmly to his jeans, pulling them up over his lean legs and fastening them with accuracy. He would not rush out of here like a fool.

Confusion flitted over Brian’s face before he realised he was Brian Kinney and he wasn’t supposed to give a fuck. He followed Justin’s lead, pulling on his pants in record time, and waited, fingers through belt loops, as if he was impatient for Justin to leave.

Justin fished into his pocket for a hair tie. He scraped his tangled locks back hastily and tied it tightly, he couldn’t stand the strands around his face right now. He had to get out of the loft, away before it was too hard to leave and he broke down, and revealed too much, becoming the weak little fag he swore he’d never be again.

“Maybe I’ll see you the next time I’m in town.” Justin said, pleased with his even voice. He zipped up his jacket and walked over to the door, hand lingering on the handle.

“On business.” Brian didn’t move, he stood in the middle of the loft, blue denim hugging his thighs, fly open, showing a small swirl of hair. 

“Yeah, if I’m on Business.” He slid open the door. “I’m glad we talked.”

“You call that talking?”

“It’s the only kind of talking I ever got out of you, Brian, maybe that was the problem. Later.” 

Would things have been different if they’d talked more? Probably not, Justin admitted to himself. After all, what does a gay teenager and a gay twenty nine year old man have in common apart from sex?

He waited for the elevator, knowing the small factor wouldn’t be missed by Brian. Justin had always been too impatient to wait for the elevator when he’d lived there, it was just one other small way he had changed.

 

Justin walked towards the GLC, realising he’d left his mother and Molly there without a word. The people had thinned out when he returned, just the die hard tattoo enthusiasts and the staff left.

Jen stood waiting in the lobby, with a face like thunder. She strode over to him when she spotted him, brushing past him and pushing open the door. Molly shrugged her shoulders and gave him a sympathetic look before following quickly. The last thing she wanted was to be in her mother’s bad books, also.

Justin followed them to Jen’s car, he hesitated getting in. “ Get in the car, Justin.” She said as she started the engine. 

Justin sighed, feeling like a kid again. The journey was met with silence, she didn’t even bother to put the radio on and Justin refused to do something that would only make her angrier. 

Molly made a clean break for it as soon as Jen stopped the car, disappearing into her room and shutting the door on them. Justin lagged behind his mother as she walked into the kitchen and started to slam cupboards in an attempt to make herself a cup of tea.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, he leaned his elbows on the shiny surface and waited for the words to tumble from his mother’s mouth. He didn’t have to wait long.

“I don’t believe you, Justin. You left us there.” She poured water into the kettle, turning the tap too far, spraying herself in the process. “He comes striding into the gallery, don’t think I didn’t see, and you go off with him, no protest.”

“So, are you mad I left you and Molly alone, or was it because I went with Brian?”

“You’re back for less than a week and you’re already in his clutches.”

Justin sighed angrily, leaning back in his chair. “We talked.” And he wasn’t entirely lying. It’s what he told Brian they were doing. The fact they talked without words, and with Brian’s dick up his ass, had little relevance on the matter, and his mother didn’t need to know all the details. 

“I thought you said all you had to say at Deb’s? All I asked for was this week, with you back where you belong and you’ve spent most of it working. Or that’s what you said you were doing, for all I know you were sneaking out with Brian.”

Justin shot up in his chair, seething. “First of all, If I was with Brian, I wouldn’t have to sneak about to do it, I’m a fully-grown man. And secondly, most importantly, I have a career, If I ever want to get anywhere I can’t miss opportunities.”

“You’re still a kid when it comes to that man.” Jen shook her head.

“You’ve got it wrong, mom. I’m still a kid when it comes to you. You can’t stop picturing me as that rebellious seventeen-year-old. I’m twenty years old, I love you, but you don’t have a say in my life any more.” He paused, taking a deep breath and trying to curb the anger that never really went away when he was around his mother. “Look, I’m going out.” He turned back towards the door, no destination in mind, he just had to get out of his mother’s condo and away from them.

“With Brian?” It was as if his mother just couldn’t help herself, she had no common sense when it came to him.

“If I was, I don’t need to ask your permission.” 

 

***

Babylon was a heaving mass of sweat slicked skin, the pounding music and rotating groins helped the tension flow from Justin’s body. He ordered a shot, tipped his head back and swallowed the liquid in one go, enjoying the burn as it found its way to his stomach. 

It took three more shots before the scene with his mother gave him the chuckles. He let the music wash over him as he made his way to the dance floor. With liquid grace he moved his hips, denim running low on his hips, giving a tantalising view of inked skin.

It didn’t take long for willing flesh to press up against his, wandering hands going where Brian’s hadn’t, under his t-shirt and over his chest. He could barely feel Brian inside him anymore, there had been a time when he could feel the other man inside him no matter where he was or who had their dick in his ass. But as the saying goes, memories fade with time, and dicks all tend to feel the same after a while.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of strange flesh pressed against his, sweet smelling flesh that pulsed in time to the music, he felt himself growing hard. He was going back to New York in the morning and he couldn’t wait. It made him feel young and carefree. 

At times he hated his mother almost as much as he loved her. Pittsburgh wasn’t his home anymore, and he was going to dance away the hours until he was gone.

It took him a while to realise the hands and groins had disappeared, he opened his eyes, getting blinded by the coloured spotlights at first, then looked up into hazel eyes, deep set into a strong, handsome face.

His heart jumped a beat and he stumbled, giving Brian the perfect excuse to pull him closer, push the younger man’s arms up over his shoulders and grind his hips to the rhythm. 

His head lowered to Justin’s, lips brushing against lips, barely at first, before deepening, slowly drinking him in. Brian’s hands tangled in Justin’s hair, still tied back after their earlier tussle at the loft. He pulled the tie out, brushing the lugs free with his fingers until this hair was a golden halo falling around his shoulders.

They stopped dancing, and just swayed instead, wanting to get as close to each other as they could get. Conflicting emotions raced through Justin, he didn’t have a clue why he was doing this.

It would be so much harder to leave after tonight. Harder than it would have been after the sex, because this was more than physical, it was Brian claiming him in front of all the other men who had wanted so much to venture into the back room with the young, tattooed blond. 

Tears burned the back of his eyes, tears he hadn’t shed since the night he’d spoken to his father. Justin blinked, battling with the dampness. He would not chose this moment to cry, he would not show Brian how much their dance was affecting him.

The song finished, merging into another, Dancing Queen, getting all the queers worked up into a frenzy, like no other song could. Justin and Brian stayed where they were, swaying, and kissing each other slowly, deeply. Men bumped into them, jostling them over the dance floor, but wandering hands kept to themselves. No one messed with what Brian Kinney wanted, and maybe, just maybe, a few of the old time regulars remembered the fresh faced blond boy that captured Brian’s attention so long ago. 

“You heading off in the morning?” Brian shouted over the music, lips touching Justin’s ear. Justin nodded, gloved hands cupping the back of Brian’s neck. 

Why did the older man stiff affect him this way? Surely he should be over it by now. He’d been with hundreds of men, some hotter than Brian, but none of them made him feel like he did, pressed against Brian.

“You should probably have an early night.” Brian rolled his lips inwards, against his teeth and Justin leaned back so he could look up into his eyes.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled out of the other man’s arms, wondering if it was just his imagination or if he really did have trouble pulling away. 

“Later.”

“Later.” Justin walked off the dance floor, ignoring Mikey as he ran over to Brian, wanting to know just what the fuck was going on between them. Justin wished he knew that.

“What the hell is going on?” Mikey shouted over the music, Justin barely heard Brian’s answer.

“We were just talking, Mikey.”


	13. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin practically sleepwalked into the shower. He was dead on his feet and wanted nothing better than to slip between the warm, clean, sheets on his own bed. He definitely needed a shower first though, he hated travelling for so long, his clothes were sticking to him and he felt grimy.

He stepped into the small, tiled cubicle and pulled the shower curtain across, twisting the nozzles to medium temperature and letting the warm water beat down over his naked body.

He let the week and a half’s dirt flow down the plughole, the water of home, cleansing his skin. He used Cam’s shower gel, forgetting to unpack his own, and wasn’t nearly as surprised as he should have been when the curtain whipped sideways and Cameron, as naked as he was, stepped in beside him.

It was a tight squeeze, but they’d perfected the art of standing face to face, both of them getting the full force of the spray.

“You OK?” Cam asked, taking the gel from him and lathering his hands.

“Yeah, I promise.” Justin tipped his head back and smoothed back his hair.

“I’ll believe it when I feel it.” Cameron was serious, his face half-afraid, as if he didn’t quite trust Justin, and really, he had no reason to.

“Your brilliant distraction did the trick, I forgot all about it while I bitched to Bren.”

“Still...”

Justin rolled his eyes, and opened his arms out as far as the cubicle would let him. “Just check then, if it’ll put your mind at rest.”

“It will.” Strong hands traced Justin’s body, fingertips running over tattoos, looking for any new lesions or scabs.

The conversation had scared Cameron, usually, when Justin got in one of his moods, he was close enough to go put a stop to it. He’d never tried to help him over the phone before, and he wasn’t quite sure it had worked. He’d learned the hard way not to take Justin’s word for it.

He smoothed his hands all over Justin, spreading the soap as he went, happy that all he was feeling was the slight rise of ink and the natural curves and dips of Justin’s body. 

His touch was detached, and it turned neither of them on. They hadn’t gotten a rise out of each other since almost the beginning of their friendship, it was probably the reason why they had remained such good friends. 

Justin closed his eyes, letting the gentle rubbing lull him to sleep, he’d perfected the art of sleeping whilst standing, years ago, and Cameron’s hands felt good, safe, concerned. 

“Hands.” A voice brought him out of his trance like state and he opened one eye.

“What?”

“Give me your hands.” Cameron spoke as if he were talking to a naughty child.

Too tired to argue, he offered Cam his hands, palms up and gave him a smug smile as his friend touched the palm, then each finger individually. “See? No setbacks.”

“Good, had to be sure, now rub my back.” Cameron turned around, and it was back to their familiar bantering and closeness only two friends could have. 

They finished their shower quickly, and Justin dried himself before rubbing his hair with a towel and letting Cam steer him to his room and into his bed. He was just too tired to dry his hair...

 

***

The studio was like a second home, and he could see Bren working in his office through the crack of the door as he let himself in. “You still working?” He called out.

Bren looked up and grinned. “I only just started. I’m working on a sleeve piece, look.” He nodded at his paper and Justin looked over his shoulder. 

“Brilliant, as usual.” He sat down opposite, leaning back in his chair. 

“How was the convention? And the GLC gallery?”

Justin fished into his pocket and pulled out a heap of business cards, each multicoloured in design and many showing some kind of skull. “Studios that want talk to us, and maybe do a swap. I spoke to Denton from California.”

“Excellent. The Art Fusion was a success, I gather?.”

“Yeah, a friend told me someone bought all four canvases.”

“Some people just have too much money to spend.” Bren smirked and rolled up his drawing, ready to start preparing for the days clients. 

“You can tell me all about it at dinner tonight. And I’m not just talking about the convention.” He raised a pierced eyebrow.

“I take it Cam has spoken to you?”

“Of course, he was worried. It seems you bumped into a lot of old friends.”

Justin snorted and opened up the appointment book, looking at the details for his first customer. “More than bumped into them I'd say.” He thought about Brian, how they had practically ripped each other’s clothes off, how they’d danced and kissed. Yes, definitely more than bumped. 

“What’s this?” Justin asked, flipping the appointment book a few months, he seemed to have four days off in a row, that never happened, in all the time he’d worked there. 

Bren glanced over. “Daphne phoned and threatened castration if I didn’t give you the time off.”

Justin rolled his eyes, typical Daphne to go right to Bren if she wanted Justin to have time off. “And I don’t suppose my so-called best friend told you exactly what we’re doing in those four days?”

“How the hell should I know? She’s your best friend.”

“Sneaky, and underhand, I might revoke her title. So, are we heading for the Inked Serpent after dinner?” Justin called as he set up his work surface.

“Sure are, the place isn’t the same without you.” Justin chuckled happily as his first customer walked through the door. “Hey Steven.”

***

The Inked Serpent was for loners, for people to get lost in the crowd, and where the crowd left you to it. No questions were asked, and most of the people there had a history as fucked up as your own.

Brands, tattoos, piercings, adorned the body like art, the less clothes the better, and it wasn’t just to get laid. This was the place people came to admire each other, where skin mutilation was classed as art and it was showed like art. A catwalk of ordinary people, special for the few hours a week they’re in the Inked Serpent. 

People stared openly, admired skin before butts, and Justin admitted he still got a kick out of seeing someone parading around, showing off a tattoo he had designed and inked. 

He sat perched on the edge of a stool, Bren and Cameron sitting next to him, in easy silence. The music was too loud for proper conversation. Justin felt relaxed, the harsh music pumping over his body, the glint of metal piercing skin, comforting. It was definitely good to be home.

It was scary how easily New York had become home, even after the shit he’d gone through to begin with, it was still a place where he was successful, where he’d made friends and fitted in with other people who had no place to fit in.

A local band played their own rendition of an old Iron Maiden song, Justin watched the singer, his hair in his eyes and mouth touching the microphone, bare arms showing tattoos Justin was very familiar with.

He remembered licking the bare flesh, almost as much as tattooing it, he grinned at the memory, getting up off his chair and spinning to face his friends.

“Mosh pit?” Bren shook his head, but Cam allowed himself to be dragged into the fray, letting Justin elbow his way into the middle of what, in this club, passed for dancing.

Music vibrated from the amps, and the singer strutted about on stage, Justin jumped high, holding onto Cameron’s shoulders to get the extra lift. He never thought his artistic temperament would enjoy this sort of music, or this sort of life, but he never felt more alive than when he was here, the harsh beat of drums pounding his ear drums and seeing men wear their tattoos as clothes. 

He was in his element here, and it wasn’t about sex, or money, it was about friendship, and family He had in Bren and Cameron what Brian had in Lindsey and Michael, only so much better because neither of them wanted to fuck him.


	14. Mechanical Michelangelo

Year one and he worried. He masked that worry behind nonchalance, until everyone believed he didn’t care. The way he liked it. One month turned into two and people started to feel less guilty about not remembering him every minute, every hour, every day. Year two and he made contact, although not with him. End of year two the memories faded and no one had to feel guilty anymore.

He took a drag on his cigarette before moaning, leaning his head back against the wall, thrusting his hips forward into a willing mouth. 

Year three and he’s back, like the whirlwind that entered in the first place, leaving his mark. The lost boy returns, bringing with it feelings Brian had buried when he failed to find Justin in New York, in year one.

He was mad, anger pushed his blood through his veins and kept his hard on hard. 

Justin was still hot, even with the tattoos, though Brian mourned the pale skin. He didn’t pay close attention to them while they’d fucked, the tattoos showed how he’d changed, like a map of his life and Brian didn’t want to read it. 

His balls tightened and he came, pushing the trick away he did up his zipper and made his way, unsteadily back to the bar, where his friends stood drinking. 

“His lordship graces us with his presence,” Ted said, chuckling and a little envious. Brian smiled sarcastically and draped his arms around Mikey. 

“His lordship wants to dance.” He dragged Mikey to the dance floor, and ignored the feeling that told him something wasn’t quite right. His body didn’t fit against Michael’s, and his cock was soft.

Why he wanted Justin so much was a mystery to him. Justin wasn’t his type, not then, and especially not now. He was small, lean, with no pecs to admire, one would even call him feminine looking, until they saw the size of his cock.

Different. It must be the reason why he wanted Justin so much. Breaking in a fresh, young, twink had its advantages, advantages he never got to take full advantage of when Justin ran off. And while he may not be able to get those advantages back, there was definitely something about the new Justin.

He pulled Mikey closer, kissing his forehead, swaying in time to the music. Mikey grinned and gave him a brief hug. 

All the thinking was hurting his head, and if he was thinking this intensely it meant he wasn’t drunk enough. Breaking their dance he stalked to the bar, shouting his order and downing the shot.

***

The diner was glaringly bright in the harsh light of a bitter morning. Brian pushed his shades up his nose, hiding the purple smudges under his eyes and protecting his eyes from the glare of the rainbow coloured diner.

He glided into the booth, ordered his coffee and watched as Mikey shoved pancakes down his throat. Brian’s stomach heaved at the sight. 

“Coffee, Deb,” he shouted again without looking her way.

“I need something to soak the alcohol up with,” Mikey groaned, and Brian realised that his best friend looked shit. Which made him look instantly better. He took his sunglasses off. 

“Some people just can’t take their alcohol like a pro.”

“It was a good night, we should do it more often.” Mikey covered his pancakes in more syrup.

“And what would the professor say about that? Deb, coffee!”

“I only have one pair of hands, you asshole.” She popped her gum for effect and slammed a cup down in front of him.

“Ben’s fine with it, we don’t go out half enough any more, it was fun, last night.”

Last night, without Justin. Brian heard the silent words and refused to listen to them. “That’s what having a husband and teenage son to support does to you. We can’t all be young, free and single.”

“Hardly young anymore, Brian.”

He chose to ignore that comment too.

“I’m glad he’s gone back.” The comment came out of the blue, angering Brian. He hated it when Mikey came out with something from nothing. They weren’t fourteen anymore. “Justin, I mean. I can’t tell you how much of a shock it was when I saw him at the tattoo convention.”

“Oh?”

“I couldn’t believe he’d have the cheek to show his face around here after what he did.”

“His family does still live here, Mikey.”

“Still, he could have got in touch with you, said sorry.”

“It’s been three years, maybe he thought it didn’t matter any more.”

“Well, it does.”

Brian gulped down his coffee, hot liquid burning his tongue, but he didn’t care, the urge to leave was too strong. “Not to me it doesn’t.” He pulled out a few notes, threw them on the table and left Mikey to his pancakes. 

He got into his corvette and drive to his offices, feeling a sense of pride at seeing ‘Kinnetik’ above the door. Ted and Cynthia were already there when he arrived.

He waltzed into his office, throwing his jacket over the coach in the corner and turned on his computer, grinning inwardly as Ted came shuffling in, papers in hand.

Being the boss was fucking great.


	15. Mechanical Michelangelo

Gus couldn’t draw for shit. According to Lindsey, Brian didn’t have an artistic bone in his body and he couldn’t tell the difference between art and scribbles. She obviously could, and the next piece of paper Gus destroyed was stuck to the fridge, in pride of place.

Brian held a green crayon, and coloured the grass in on Gus’ picture as the little boy instructed.

“Have you heard from him?” Brian looked up and hiked Gus further onto his lap, holding him still with one hand.

“Grass!” The little boy demanded when Brian’s crayon stilled. He started colouring again, taking his time to answer, knowing it drove Lindsey insane.

“Who?” It was one worded answers like that which drove her over the edge.

“Brian! You know who, Justin.” She placed dirty dishes into the dishwasher and turned around to glare at her friend. “He phones us every week.” She pressed. “Or we phone him.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“You could phone him you know.” She sat at the table opposite them, staring at him, as if trying to will him to get on the phone to Sunshine.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you care.”

“Who says?” He became neater with the grass, giving it more attention, refusing to look at the mother of his child.

“I heard about your dance at Babylon.”

“A dance for old times sake, now shut the fu-hell up.” 

“A dance for old times sake, with the guy who you fu-,” she glanced at Gus, “had, more than once.” She smiled smugly, as if she knew something he didn’t. Lesbians. 

“Stop.” Gus demanded, taking the crayon out of Brian’s fingers. “Finished now.” He smiled proudly at his mother, and handed her the piece of paper they had both decimated. Maybe Gus got his artistic talent from him. 

“That’s brilliant, sweetie.” She made a big show of putting it on the fridge.

“You could at least call and see how he is.”

Gus wriggled off his lap and went in search of toys. “I know he’s fine. If he wasn’t, you’d tell me.”

“We’re thinking of visiting soon. He said me and my family are welcome whenever we like. He’s going to show us a whole new side to New York, a side you don’t see in the tourist guides.”

Brian smirked, and pushed his tongue into his cheek. “I bet.” He stood up and went into the living room. “I didn’t come here for this shit.” 

Lindsey was sure he would storm out, like he usually did when they had words. 

“I came to see Sonny Boy. You want a game of football with your old man?” 

“Yeah, football, football.” He raced over to his toy chest, throwing toys out and over the floor as he looked for the ball his dad had given him. He pulled it out proudly and they made their way into the yard, for a bit of father and son bonding.

Lindsey watched from the window, her heart happy as she watched them play, the mask Brian usually wore in front of his friends, gone, as he played with his son.

This was a side of him she wished Melanie could see, but he never showed it when she was around. The true father and son bonding was rare, and Linz couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. 

Feeling inspired she rushed to find their camera, and snapped a few photos from the window, a new painting conjured in her mind.

Gus kicked the ball at Brian, and he lunged for it, missing it purposely, so it would go in the mini goals set up in the garden. Gus jumped into the air in victory before jumping on Brian’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Brian swooped him into his arms and put him on his shoulders. They were both a mess, covered in grass stains, and for once Brian didn’t complain about his clothes.

“I think we both need a shower, mom.” He settled Gus onto the floor, holding onto his arm before he went running inside.

“Take your shoes off here, I don’t want mud traipsing through my house.” In an alternative universe this could have been their life. Lindsey pointed upstairs. “You know where the shower is.” Brian headed on up. “And don’t forget to take your son.” He turned around, rolled his eyes at her and picked Gus up. “Come on Sonny Boy, let’s get cleaned up.”

 

***

Owning his own business meant he worked a lot out of office hours. He tapped away at his computer, working on an account, comfortable in nothing more than sweats and an old t-shirt. 

He swore when he heard banging on his door. He’d told Mikey he wouldn’t be going out that night. He strode to the door, intent on sending him merrily on his way, only to find the teenage, ex-hustler standing there. 

This was a twisted kind of deja vu he could do without. Hunter was definitely the wrong teenager standing at his door. “Go home, Hunter.” 

Hunter leaned against the doorway, with cocky youthfulness that all hustlers seemed to master. “Can’t I come in? I’m bored.” He pushed his way in, purposely brushing Brian’s shoulder and threw himself onto the sofa in a way only teenagers could. 

“Got anything to eat?”

“No. I’m calling Mikey to come get you.”

“Fuck, Brian, when did you get to be such a stick in the mud.” He pouted, kicking off his shoes and tucking his feet underneath him. 

“Five minutes. Then you’re gone. I’m busy.” Stick in the mud? Stuck in the mud, he was not.

“I can do a lot in five minutes.”

Brian went to the kitchen and rooted for a bag of chips he knew was there somewhere. Eventually finding them, he threw them at Hunter. “Practice on those.”

He sighed, and opened the bag. “I bet you didn’t say that to Justin.”

Justin. Why did everyone want to speak about Justin? 

“You’re just a kid.” 

“So was Justin.” He munched on a handful of chips. “These are good, Ben is such a health freak. He was a virgin wasn’t he? Sloppy, inexperienced, I bet he came in seconds. I have experience.”

Brian snorted and sat back down at his computer, pretending to do something. “Selling your ass on the street isn’t experience.”

“I’m a professional.”

“You’re a kid.”

“A year younger than Justin was when you broke him in. I don’t see what you like in him. So, the tattoos are kind of hot, but he didn’t have those when you fucked him. What did he have?”

“A cute bubble butt and practically no gag reflex to speak of.” Amazing blue eyes and the ability to get under his skin.

“Is it because I have HIV?” 

God, Brian hated how the damned kid jumped about from one conversation to another, it was giving him a headache. “It’s because you’re a kid, and more than that, you’re my best friend’s kid, or practically.”

Hunter’s face became serious. “I was sorta seeing this girl.”

Brian looked up in surprise, he’d figured Hunter was as queer as the rest of them.

“Don’t look shocked, I never got the chance to decide whether I liked pussy or cock. I was making up for lost time. Her mom found out about me having HIV and wouldn’t let me see her again.”

“That’s shitty.” Brian didn’t know what to say, he didn’t have first hand experience of HIV, and pussy wasn’t something high on his list of priorities. 

“It’s easier with guys. People, straights, I mean, kind of expect it, you know? And guys aren’t as put off by it as girls.” He shoved a few more chips into his mouth, crunching noisily and looking thoughtful. “But she was nice, you know? I felt like I could have gone somewhere with her. Which is stupid really, ‘cos the only place I’m heading is six feet under.”

“We all head there sooner or later, it may shock you to realise death isn’t an exclusive club for positive men.”

“Positive, that’s a weird term to use don’t you think? Like it’s a good thing to have this disease. Negative would be a much better positive. What’s positive about being positive? Makes me feel damned negative I can tell ya’.”

 

Urgh, Brian’s head started to pound. He got up and headed for the bathroom, swallowing some painkillers and returning to the teenager, that for some reason, had decided to open up to him. 

“Are you seeing Justin? Mikey ranted for days about seeing you both at Babylon. Do you think he’ll move back here? I hope not, don’t want to ruin my chances,” he winked suggestively, “plus Mikey will be hell to live with.”


	16. Mechanical Michelangelo

SIXTEEN Dancing Serpent 

Justin stood in the living room of his apartment, canvas opposite the large window that let huge amounts of sunlight filter in. A splattered sheet lay on the floor to protect the threadbare carpet. A large paintbrush loaded with paint whizzed across the canvas, Justin uncaring as the paint sprayed against his bare chest.

His painting had become a lot looser over the years, losing the constraints of school, of people who expected him to paint a certain way, of his own expectations, thinking he could be the next Monet. 

He piled on the paint, until his brush could make a grove through it. He loved the texture of oils, loved how he could layer the paint on like fine clothes, and he loved how the dry painting felt under his fingertips when he finished.

It wasn’t often he painted for pleasure anymore. Not that tattoo art work wasn’t pleasure. No matter how much he loved to design tattoos it was still a job and it too was constricting in a way. He had to stick to what a customer wanted, not letting enthusiasm take him into a different direction. 

There was a bang at the door and he ignored it. Bren would just let himself in, and everyone else could fuck off. He was feeling inspired. The banging became louder, distracting him.

“Answer that, Cam!” Justin shouted, knowing his roommate could hear it too.

“Can’t. Naked.”

“Why the fuck are you naked?” That man had a serious problem with clothes.

“They’re all dirty, I’m waiting for them to grow legs and walk to the laundry.”

Inspiration well and truly interrupted, Justin placed his brush down, mopped his hands up with an old rag and padded to the door. He opened it with a scowl on his face, ready to bitch at whoever decided to knock on their door at such an inappropriate time in the afternoon. 

The bitching died before it reached his throat. In fact, his throat, heart and ability to function seemed to die right there. Brian stood on the other side of the door, looking gorgeous in designer worn jeans and casual t-shirt.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Sunshine?” There was that singsong tone again, it riled Justin enough to shut his mouth and clear his throat.

“What are you doing here, Brian?”

Seeing he wasn’t going to get past the front door any time soon, he walked inside, brushing a light kiss on Justin’s cheek and taking a look around the small apartment.

“Well, not the Ritz, but it isn’t as shoddy as I was expecting.”

How dare the bastard come here and put his home down, something he’d worked so hard to get. He glared and repeated his earlier question. “What are you doing here, Brian?”

“Linz said you’d invited her and her family any time they wanted to visit, and unless you’ve forgotten, I’m family.” He sat down on the sofa, arms spread along the back, and smiled up at him, enjoying how ruffled Justin looked.

Suddenly feeling exposed, Justin went into his room and put a hole riddled t-shirt on over his paint splattered chest, then went out to try and make sense as to why Brian was here.

“You came all this way, because I gave Linz an invitation?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for an important account, I thought I’d look you up, see how you’re doing,” then quietly he added, “you’ve done good.”

Justin’s stomach tightened, and he couldn’t help the warm feeling that settled there. The words were simple, and typically Brian, but they were heartfelt, unlike his earlier comment.

“I thought you could show me the sights you were telling Lindsey about.”

“Somehow, I don’t think those kind of sights are what you had in mind. Plus, I’m working tomorrow.”

Brian raised an eyebrow, “You’re not working now though.”

“No...”

“Then you can show me your local hangouts.”

Justin wasn’t so sure about that, he felt weird mixing his old life with his new. He didn’t want Brian to mock, or belittle it, this was his life after all, and he didn’t want Brian to ruin the achievement.

“Surely you’ve got something better to do...You’ve done your duty for the family, and you can report back that I have electricity, running water and a roof over my head.”

Brian snorted, and pushed himself up off the sofa. “They don’t know I’m here. As for something better to do, would I be here if I didn’t?”

Cameron chose that moment to walk through the living room to the kitchen, naked as the day he was born, and sporting some of Justin’s earliest work. He ignored them both and poured himself a tall glass of Coca-Cola and went back to his room.

“He always walk around the place naked?”

Justin shrugged. “It’s his home.”

Brian looked as if he wanted to say more, but he bottled it and changed the subject instead. “So, we on for tonight?” 

“Sure.” Justin still wasn’t so sure about taking Brian to the Inked Serpent, but he didn’t really have a choice. 

“Great. I have a few things to sort out, and I’ll be back tonight, about ten-thirty?”

Justin nodded and let the confusion show on his face as Brian kissed his cheek chastely and left quickly. 

“So, who was that?” Cameron shouted from his room. Justin jumped slightly, forgetting Cameron was there, and walked into his bedroom, to fill him in on what had just happened.

“That was Brian Kinney.” The answer was as unnecessary as the question. Cameron knew who the tall brunette had been, but the question had got Justin moving and opening up.

“He’s hot.”

Justin sat on the end of Cameron’s bed. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that?”

“Oh, he’s hot alright. I just don’t know why he’s here. I thought he would have had enough of me back in the Pitts.”

“Obviously not, sugar,” Cam drawled, then pushed Justin with his foot. “Don’t you need to get ready to go out?”

“We’re not going until ten-thirty.”

“Best get a wriggle on then.” Justin threw a cushion at Cameron’s head and headed out, feeling slightly happier. 

***

It took Justin a while to realise he was looking for clothes like he used to wear. He shook his head angrily. It was annoying how he was unconsciously trying to fit in with Brian again.

His wardrobe held nothing even half way resembling what he used to wear, no cargo pants, no FCUK, no trendy t-shirts or button down shirts. Purposely he pulled out his least WASPish clothing, a black and red striped net shirt and tight black jeans. He thought briefly about painting his nails black, but realised he would only be doing it to try and shock Brian.

He didn’t want to antagonize him, but he wanted the older man to realise he was comfortable with who he was now. 

He tied the top half of his hair up, showing off the silver studs in his ears and making his blue eyes stand out in his pale face. 

Brian knocked on the door, his eyes only widening slightly when he saw Justin’s attire. “Something tells me, we’re not going to a dance club.”

“Oh, there’ll be dancing, but it’ll be my kind of dancing.” Justin pulled Brian out the door. “Later, Cam!”

“Your friend not coming?”

“He’s working the night shift.”

“Oh.”

“He works at a 24-hour porn shop.” Brian laughed and followed Justin as he worked the tube like a pro.

Justin held onto Brian as they walked into the Inked Serpent, heavy metal washing over them, louder than any night at Babylon.

“Who would have known you’d turn out so kinky.” Brian looked around with interest. Noticing the bare, inked skin, and the piercings.

“If you think this is kinky, you’re not the Brian I knew.” Justin leaned over the bar and ordered them a beer. 

“Oh, I’m still the Brian you knew, I just don’t know what you see in this thing.” He had to shout over the music, Justin heard every other word, but it was enough.   
“I’m not ‘into’ this kind of thing, I am this kind of thing, or haven’t you noticed.” He held out his arms, the net shirt hanging loosely off his frame, giving a glimpse of what was underneath. 

“Funny, you never once mentioned tattooing when I first met you, an animator yes, but tattooing, no.”

Justin grinned, trying his hardest to give a carefree attitude. “I went where the wind took me.”

“Don’t you mean my credit card?”

Justin sighed, giving up the pretence of being happy. “Why did you come here if you’re just gonna bitch about that?”

“Fine, why don’t you show me your kingdom?” 

Before Justin could reply a strange pair of hands squeezed Brian’s shoulders before running down his bare, unadorned, skin. “Oooh, fresh meat, Justin?”

Justin held back a chuckle and slowly disentangled Brian from one of his regulars. “Hey John. ‘Fraid not. He’s staying a virgin, for the foreseeable future anyway.” Justin winked at John and placed an arm around Brian’s waist, trying not to think about how good it felt. 

Brian hated being called a virgin, even if it wasn’t related to his sexual prowess. He just didn’t see the desire in mutilating skin with a design you’d probably end up hating a few years into the future. 

Brian kept his views quiet, he had a feeling they wouldn’t go down too well here.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday, Jus, gotta go find me a stud.” John winked and sauntered off.

“Nice friends you have.”

Justin turned Brian’s face towards him, “My friends are the best,” he said seriously, then he kissed him, hard, fingers digging into his strong cheekbones. He doesn’t know why he kissed Brian, he hadn’t meant to, but he wanted to, and he never could resist the other man.

“Justin, Justin, put the gentlemen down.” 

Justin paused, mid kiss, pulling away slowly and looking over Brian’s shoulder to Bren. 

“Don’t you two look the picture, one pale and unsullied, the other painted and dark.” Bren’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he settled himself onto a stool.

“That’s the first time I’ve been called unsullied,” Brian commented, tongue in cheek.

“Brian, this is my boss, Bren. Bren, Brian.”

“Well, isn’t it nice to meet the guy who got Justin into this wonderful scene.” Brian said with forced cheerfulness.

“Almost as nice as meeting the guy who pushed him into it.”

Justin groaned inwardly, this wasn’t going well. “Come on guys, play nice.” 

He still didn’t get why Brian was here. They weren’t sorting anything out, they weren’t fucking, and Brian seemed to hate Justin’s new life, so why was he there?

“Lets dance, Bri.” He pulled at his hand, annoyed when Brian shrugged it off.

He nodded towards the mosh pit. “You call that dancing? I don’t think so. I’m taking a piss.” He didn’t ask for directions, just walked into the crowd, eyes travelling over muscular bodies. Justin tried to hide his hurt feelings from Bren behind a quick smile and a shrug, then disappearing into the mosh pit anyway. He wouldn’t let Brian ruin this for him. 

Harsh shoves and flying limbs swallowed him up and he went with the motion, thrashing around angrily, his eyes only straying to the bar looking for Brian occasionally. 

It was over twenty minutes before he returned and leaned against the bar next to Bren. Justin didn’t know what they were saying, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He carried on moshing, sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. 

“Hurt him and I’ll kill you,” Bren said without taking his eyes off Justin in the mosh pit. 

“What’s it to you? Fucking him?”

Bren smiled slowly, showing a mouth full of metal. “You only had to ask, Brian, is the thought of it bothering you?”

Brian shrugged. “Not really, I’m only here to ease my guilty conscience.”

“Of course you are.”


	17. Mechanical Michelangelo

SEVENTEEN Drown in this Love

The Inked Serpent didn’t go well, and by the time they left, Brian silently following Justin back to his apartment, Justin was ready to call it quits, to hide under the covers and pretend Brian hadn’t come to visit, that he hadn’t gone to the Pitts. 

Why was he even following Justin home? He’d probably fucked at least a dozen guys on the way to the bathroom and back.

Justin switched on the lights, glaringly bright after the dimness of the club. Brian looked too good, his hair sweat slicked against his forehead and his bare shoulders glistening slightly. 

Justin knew he looked a state, straggled hair around his face, tie knotted at the back of his head, and his skin moist with the mingled sweat of the mosh pit. “What the fuck are you doing here Brian?”

“I already told you that.” Brian walked over to the fridge, frowning at the bottled cola and half-empty carton of orange juice. He picked up the carton, sniffing it slightly to see if it was safe, then took a few gulps.

“Jeez, Brian, this isn’t even your place and you’re acting as if you own it. I know what you told me before, but why are you *really* here? I’m yesterday’s news, the twink that disappeared. You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to declare my undying love and start following you around like a lovesick puppy. You can go home, guilt eased, and forget all about me.” Justin glared up at him. “But first I want to know why the hell you came in the first place.”

Brian dropped the juice onto the counter with a thud, stepping forward and looking down at Justin. “Why does it matter?” Why did he have to explain every god-damned action?

“I want to know why you feel the need to reopen old wounds, why you had to come to my home to do it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know...” His hands reached out, fingers finding black and red net, bunching it up, pushing him away, then pulling Justin back against him. “I don’t know.” He said, head bowing until he found Justin’s lips with his own.

Justin pressed up against him, standing on his tiptoes and pulled at Brian’s hair, bringing him closer and deepening the kiss.

Brian’s fingers unclenched and went for Justin’s zipper, plunging his hand inside and grasping his erection. Justin moaned into the kiss, thrusting his hips into Brian’s hand. “Bedroom.” He said messily, in between raw, bruising kisses.

They made it to Justin’s room, still bathed in darkness. Brian hesitated slightly, then lowered his head for another kiss, this time long, slow, sucking Justin’s top lip into his mouth, then his bottom lip. 

Justin shuffled backwards, clutching onto Brian, making sure he moved with him, until the back of his knees touched the bed and he tumbled backwards, the older man landing on top of him.

The darkness cast a comforting blanket over Justin as he felt Brian’s hand push his shirt up over his chest, he sat slightly, letting him pull it over his head before lying back down.

In the darkness he almost looked like the Justin Brian used to know. He watched as Brian pulled his own t-shirt over his head, his body as toned as it always had been. He smoothed his hands over Brian’s chest, down to his bellybutton and curled into the swirl of hair below.

Brian stopped him before he went lower, holding one of his hands in his own. He reached for the bedside lamp and felt Justin tense. He let his fingers hover over the switch and leaned down, over him, pressing a kiss to his mouth. “I want to see you.” He pressed the switch, bathing them both in a soft amber glow. 

Justin’s heart jumped into his throat as Brian knelt over him, looking down on skin that hadn’t been bare in years. Vines spiralled down Justin’s arms, disappearing into his gloves. Brian let his eyes travel around his chest, more vines peeking from around his back, curving around his belly button and disappearing into pubic hair. Leaves and thorns from one shoulder trailed down his chest, over a nipple. 

It didn’t make much sense to Brian, it was like seeing only half a painting. He opened his legs wider, giving Justin more room. “Roll over,” he whispered. 

“Brian-” Justin started, before thinking better of it and rolling onto his stomach, letting Brian see the biggest change in his life. 

Brian had no words for what he saw, for the emotion that coiled in his stomach and flowed out through every pore. He leaned down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to a shoulder blade. Only it wasn’t a shoulder blade, but delicate lines of grey, each mark working together, creating a face that seemed to shimmer as Justin breathed heavily. 

Brian licked the picture, sure he’d be able to taste it, to taste the pain he could see in the eye of a dragon, the eye reflecting the image of a man, a man that could only be Justin. 

Brian sat further back, taking the image in as a whole, the dragon’s head pointing downwards, caught against its own body by a tangle of vines. It’s body twisted down Justin’s spine, each curve entangling it even more.

Brian bent over him, tongue trailing from the bottom of the dragon to the tip of its ear, ignoring the vines that tangled dragon to man and man to dragon. 

It stopped being a tattoo the moment he’d laid eyes on it. It was more than injected ink, it was a part of Justin, or maybe Justin was a part of it, vines entangling man and dragon for eternity. 

He leaned down slightly, pressing his chest to Justin’s back, making the smaller man jump slightly. Brian held Justin’s arms out, and cheek pressed against shoulder, he looked down the expanse of skin, watching the vines that seemed to come alive, twirl around his arm.  
As an ad-exec he should understand the meaning behind the tattoo, it was meant to be a statement after all, but Brian couldn’t think beyond the storm of emotions that seeing Justin’s body had evoked. 

It was beautiful, not because the artwork was amazing, or because the technique used was the best, but because Justin was beautiful, and if Brian admitted that to himself, he always had been.

Brian shuffled down slightly, kissing the slight dips of Justin’s spine as he went, occasionally stopping and swirling his tongue around a particularly cruel looking vine, soothing it, sucking it into his mouth, as if he could ease the pain and suffering as he went. 

When he reached the waistband to Justin’s pants he sat up and pulled, causing the blond to moan at the friction, and lift his hips so Brian could peel them down his legs easier.

The vines trailed over Justin’s hips and down his legs, but there were other tattoos too, tattoos Brian couldn’t make sense of. He pulled Justin’s socks off and smoothed his hands down lean legs and ankles. 

Justin couldn’t take any more and he turned around, sitting up quickly and pulling Brian down, over him, his painfully hard cock scraping across the denim of Brian’s jeans. Brian hissed and pushed the denim over his own hips, freeing his cock quickly, his breath hitching as Justin’s hand grasped it and squeezed. 

Brian closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead against Justin’s, trying to get his breathing under control, he didn’t want this to finish before it had even begun. He pulled Justin’s hands away from him, and moved to the end of the bed, kneeling on the floor and pulling Justin until his legs were over his shoulders, and cock, wonderfully close to his mouth.

Brian licked his inner thighs, going from one to the other, and ignoring the throbbing cock brushing his cheek. He dipped down further, massaging his balls with his tongue, causing Justin to wriggle and moan above him.

Brian smirked, enjoying the torment he was causing, and lapped quickly at the base of Justin’s dick before slowing the pace and flattening his tongue along the shaft, causing as much friction as possible. 

Justin flung an arm over his eyes, unable to keep them open anymore, he bit into his own lip, trying to keep himself from screaming as Brian’s tongue circled the head of his penis, dipping into the pre-come at the tip before descending over him. 

He forgot all about trying not to scream and let the high pitched gasps burst from his throat. He leaned up, uncomfortably, on one elbow, until he was able to thread his fingers in Brian’s hair, holding tight, thrusting into his mouth.

Brian pulled away laughing, his eyes twinkling. He quickly pushed the jeans off, from around his ankles, taking out the condom and lube he’d placed there earlier that evening, and climbed back on top of Justin, kissing him deeply, his tongue exploring Justin’s mouth, brushing the roof of his mouth and duelling with his tongue.

He let his talented fingers work their magic, teasing his cock, before slipping behind his balls searching for the opening his cock had never forgotten. 

He covered his fingers in lube, covering rim of Justin’s opening, before slowly working a finger inside. Justin groaned and clutched his shoulders, feeling one finger, then two, work their way inside him.

Brian pushed the blond’s legs over his shoulders and donned a condom, covering himself in the remainder of the lube and leaned forward, guiding his cock to Justin’s waiting ass, pushing in and breaching the barriers.

He pushed himself all the way in until his balls touched Justin’s butt, he stayed like that for a few seconds, trying to regulate his breathing, wanting this to last, wishing the natural prowess of Brian Kinney hadn’t deserted him.

Justin lifted his head, searching for Brian’s lips and almost swallowed his lover’s tongue as the new position had Brian’s cock brushing against his prostate.

Brian smirked against his lips and rotated his hips before pulling out and slamming back in. Justin screamed into his mouth and clutched at his neck, unable to get enough of him, wanting to touch him all over at once.

Brian snaked a hand between them and grasped Justin’s cock. It was almost too much for Justin, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, he wasn’t sure he could take it, but he wasn’t sure he could stop it either. It had been so long since someone had paid him such attention.

He placed one hand over Brian’s slowing the motion slightly, tightening it, moving in sync to Brian’s hips. A tingling feeling started in the tips of his toes, spreading like wildfire up his legs and into his groin, before bursting and shooting throughout the rest of his body like electricity.

Justin’s cock spurted over their joined hands, covering Brian’s chest and mingling in pubic hair. Brian slammed into him one more time, letting go of Justin’s cock and pulling his hips up, closer to him, coming until he was spent, falling on top of Justin like a dead weight. 

He lay gasping, his head sticking to Justin’s chest with sweat. Holding the condom in place he pulled out, and pulled it off, slinging it onto the other side of the bed, they’d made so much mess it hardly mattered anyway.

He moved up the bed slightly, rolling off Justin until they lay side by side, both quiet, save the beating of their hearts.

Brian couldn’t stop looking at Justin’s lean frame, seeing come cooling on his stomach and over his hands. Brian trailed a finger nail down his wrist and took hold of his hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking each finger, while his own fingers worked the Velcro free. He hooked a finger into the leather and started to pull, startled when Justin pulled it away quickly.

“No.” was all he said. Brian sat up, leaning against one elbow, so he could look into Justin’s eyes. “I don’t want anything to taint tonight,” he said so softly Brian barely heard him.

“Nothing could taint this. Tell me what’s wrong.” Brian threaded their fingers, resisting the temptation to pull the gloves off and see what was beneath.

“Nothings wrong, just...just a reminder of how stupid I was back then.” Justin had gotten good at giving explanations without giving away anything, at one time Brian would have been proud, but Justin hadn’t learned this off him, he’d learned it the hard way.

“I let that phone call to my dad colour every other relationship I had in my life,” he admitted. “This is one of the consequences, and I’ll tell you, just not tonight, when it’s been so great.”

Brian smirked and lay back down, pulling the sheet up over them. “Great? I seem to recall biting each other’s heads off and spending the best part of four hours in a dive.” 

Justin smacked his shoulder and chuckled softly. “The rest was pretty great though.”

“I’m always great.”

“And so modest with it.”

They drifted off into easy silence, both lost in their own thoughts, happy just to be next to each other, both smelling of sex and satisfaction. “I didn’t know you came looking for me you know. I have this dream where you do find me in that hotel room and we fuck for hours.”

“I was planning on giving you a good seeing to.” Their words were casual, but the underlying seriousness was all too real.

“Fucking cunt stole it off me, beat me up and took off.” Beat him into a bloody pulp, took the only thing he had connection him to Brian and left him alone, he shuddered thinking about it, then smiled as Brian pulled him against him. It rained that night. Rain washed away his blood and eased his aching muscles, ice setting into his veins, only now thawing in Brian’s arms.


	18. Mechanical Michelangelo

EIGHTEEN Dappled Sunshine

Sunlight peeked through the gaps in the curtains, dappled light playing over sated skin. Justin lightly trailed his hands along the patterns created by the sun’s rays on Brian’s back, enjoying the smooth, unblemished skin, it was just like he remembered it, only better because this was reality, not just a memory.

It was early, but Justin wasn’t tired, he was too happy, too wired, worried, conflicted, confused, all at once. He’d never experienced anything like last night, before, not even with Brian when they’d first met. Justin only hoped that Brian’s good mood didn’t disappear as the sun rose. 

Brian rolled over, opening one eye and smirking at Justin. “Now you’ve woke me up you should put that hand to good use,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

Worry disappearing, Justin slowly lowered his hand, pushing down the sheets and knocking into Brian’s erection before grasping it. Justin smiled as Brian bit back a moan. “As much as I’d like to continue this here, we both reek, I think a shower is definitely in order.” Justin jumped from the bed, pulled on his boxers and threw Brian’s at him. “You coming?” 

Brian looked at his underwear in disgust, throwing in on the floor again, he followed Justin to the bathroom, naked, a little disappointed when Justin’s flatmate was nowhere to be seen, he wanted for him to see just who had claimed Justin last night.

“It’s a good job I don’t mind skin on skin contact, Sunshine,” Brian said, when he saw the size of the shower. 

Justin took off his gloves and placed them on the closed toilet, Brian pretended not to notice, and refused to let his eyes be drawn to his bare palms. The blond would tell him when he was ready, and Brian would try his hardest not to pry.

“This shower is the reason I moved into this apartment,” Justin joked, his eyes twinkling as he stepping into the shower and turned on the taps.

Brian followed him, shutting the shower curtain on them, pulling Justin’s hips into his. “You must have had a lot of guests to perfect it like this.” Brian closed his eyes, water flowing over his face, down his chest, wetting his pubic hair, which practically screamed at Justin to touch it.

“You have no idea.” Justin couldn’t help but compare the shower scene with Cam to this one, but the distraction of Brian’s erection was too much. He pulled at the wiry hair at Brian’s groin, and then cupped his cock in his bare palm. Brian gasped at the feeling. Justin’s hand was scorching hot, and oh so smooth compared to the leather, he’d never realised how much he loved the palm of a hand, the simple beauty of it as it was wrapped around his cock.

 

***

FLASH TATTOOS are for the unimaginative, ORIGINALS only, inked here.

This was the sign Brian saw from the outside of Justin’s work place. It was an impressive building, two large windows either side of a glass and chrome door, the contrast to the sign was amazing. 

Brian stared up at it, and the figures of Mechanical Michelangelo seemed to come to life the more he stared. Men of days gone by, lounging around in their naked glory, the only slight difference was the patterns covering their skin.

He wondered if Justin had anything to do with designing it. He walked through the door, surprised at the amount of light flooding the large reception room. He’d expected it to be dingier for some reason.

The walls were painted a crisp white, the counter silver to match the door and window frames. An old, but comfy looking sofa was pressed against one wall, tattoo magazines scattered on the coffee table in front.

Bren looked up from the counter, then seeing it was Brian, looked back down, flicking through the appointment book intently. “Justin is working.” 

It was then Brian heard the buzzing of a tattoo gun and he felt a moments panic, worried that Justin may go wrong and slip, before realising he’d been doing this for years, and just because it was Brian’s first time seeing it didn’t mean it was his first time tattooing.

“I’ll wait. Nice place you have here.” He walked around, stepping closer to the walls and realising there were no designs for people to chose from whatsoever.

One wall displayed a life size photo of Justin’s back, subtly photographed and framed in black. Brian would know that tattoo anywhere, he’d spent the night memorising it after all.

It took him a while to drag his eyes away and look at the smaller photographs surrounding it. Photos of tattoos, the skin red, as if it had only just been inked. Each photo was different, each obviously tattooed by Justin.

He really was talented and he really was a tattooist. Brian knew it, Mikey had told him all about the convention after all, but he hadn’t really thought about what that entailed.

“Fucking fantastic isn’t he?” Bren said. “You don’t get many as talented as he is.”

“Like you?”

“Oh, I’m talented alright. Who do you think inked Justin’s tattoo?” Brian hadn’t thought of that, it was so much a part of Justin it was almost as if it had just emerged from his skin. 

Brian moved away from Justin’s boss, eyeing the wall that he gathered displayed Bren’s work. There was a photo of Bren’s back and chest, hundreds of tattoos merging into one.   
“If you can pick out which one Justin inked, I’ll stop giving you a hard time.”

Brian laughed, “You call this giving me a hard time?”

Bren shook his head, serious. “No, but you don’t want me to start, believe me.”

“Why does it even matter?”

“It’ll help me believe you really do care about him, that you aren’t cooking up some kind of revenge for what he did three years ago, that you aren’t just messing with him and that you aren’t going to break his heart.”

“Fuck, you’re a twisted son of a bitch if you think that.” 

“Which ones?” 

Brian sighed, irritated, but stepped closer to the photograph. The tattoos as a whole didn’t do anything for him, there were too many, too cramped, and they didn’t relate to each other. 

“That one.” He pointed to a portrait of a young girl, it reminded him of the style Justin used to have, similar to the sketches he’d submitted to the GLC. 

“Maybe I won’t have to kill you just yet then.” Bren said as Justin walked his customer out. He gave Brian a bright smile and then turned back, handing the man tattoo care instructions.

When he left Justin sauntered up to Brian, reaching on tiptoes to kiss his lips. “What you doing here?”

“I finished up business early, thought I'd come to see you in the work place.”

Customers chose that moment to walk through the door, Justin gave them a quick wave, then turned back to Brian, knowing they were Bren’s clients. “So what do you think about it?”

“Impressed. Though I'm disappointed you don’t have any ‘I Heart Mom’ designs I can chose from.”

Justin laughed and pulled Brian over to the sofa. “’Cos you get on with your mom so well. Anyway, we don’t do those kind of tattoos.” He pointed to the sign in the windows. “No flash tattoos, if the customer wants to be a sheep they can go to any other tattoo parlour. If they want an original they’ll stay and help design it.”

“A Justin Taylor original sounds kind of hot.” Brian pushed his tongue into the side of his cheek as his hand grabbed at Justin’s crotch. 

“No, no, no. No starting anything now, my next client is due any time, and I have to get ready.” Justin pulled himself off the sofa and went behind the counter, reaching for a spare box of latex gloves and tissues before taking them into the back room. A few seconds later he popped his head around the door. “You sticking around?” 

“Brian leaned back on the sofa, crossing ankle over knee. “I thought I’d watch a real artiste at work.”


	19. Mechanical Michelangelo

NINETEEN Pillow Talk

Justin popped bread in the toaster and spooned instant coffee into two mugs. Brian could like it or lump it. He frowned, trying not to dwell on the man packing up his things in the other room. 

As nice as this weekend had been, it still didn’t answer the questions he so badly needed answering. What the fuck was going on between them? Would Brian admit it, and did Justin want to go through it again, only to have it fall flat around him? He’d been in that low place before, and it’d taken him a long time to pull himself out of it, and only then with the help of his friends.

Justin couldn’t help wishing Brian could stay longer, this weekend seemed as though it was apart from the real world of family, commitment and best friends that wished they could be more, in Brian’s case anyway.

The urge to stalk Brian like he had before didn’t temp him this time around, he lived too far away for a start, and he would not do all the running only to get shit on again. 

Justin shook his head, he was thinking like he knew they were going somewhere, this could be nothing more than a goodbye fling for Brian, and if it was, Justin would not let it show how much it hurt him.

The streets of New York were a good place to learn to hide your emotions.

The toast popped up, and Justin swore as he saw the blackened bread. He’d forgotten to lower the time. Cam, for some strange reason, known only to himself and a god neither of them believed in, liked his toast cremated.

Justin rooted in the draw for a knife and began scraping the burned bits into the bin, before buttering it well, hoping it would soak into the toast and make it less dry.

“If that’s for me, I’ll pass.” Brian eyed the toast dubiously, dropping his bag on the floor in the kitchen, he walked over to Justin, standing close, and leaned over, grasping a mug and taking a sip. He grimaced slightly, but kept quiet. Good, he’d drank Debbie’s coffee for years, he should be used to the bad stuff.

“It’s not so bad,” Justin said, almost chocking on a particularly charred piece.

“You keep telling yourself that, Sunshine.” Brian patted his pants, feeling for his wallet and cell phone, assured he had everything he pulled Justin forward, kissing away the crumbs caressing the younger man’s lips.   
“I have to go, don’t want to miss my plane.”

“No, we don’t want that, do we?” A part of Justin wanted that, and badly, wanted to lock himself in a room with Brian and fuck for eternity, no interruptions, no responsibilities and no heartache. 

“I’m glad you came,” Justin admitted, feeling the need to say something about this weekend. They couldn’t just end it like...*that* and not say something, anything. 

“I’m glad I came too.” Brian rolled his tongue into his cheek and leered at Justin.

Justin laughed, rolling his eyes, he should have guessed he’d get no serious, verbal, reply from Brian. 

Brian picked up his travel bag, hiking it over his shoulder and walking to the front door.

Justin followed silently, wondering if this would be the last time they’d see each other, if they’d fucked for the last time, kissed for the last time. The thoughts rolled through his mind at a depressingly fast pace.

“I’ll see you next weekend then.” Brian said as he opened the door and walked out casually. 

Justin almost missed it, then he almost ran out, an old sunshine smile on his face, he settled for yanking the door open, hands on hips. “Maybe you should ask, I might be away next weekend.”

Brian stopped, turning around, a trademark smirk on his face. “Are you?” It probably hadn’t even occurred to him that Justin could be out of town, at another studio, at a convention, out with friends, hunting for tricks, or something. 

“It’s battle of the bands at the Inked Serpent.” 

“Oh joy, the bands better be hot then.” With a wave in Justin’s direction he walked down the flight of stairs.

Justin was shocked Brian would be visiting next weekend. He was astonished that he’d agreed to go to the Inked Serpent. 

 

Justin padded softly to his bedroom, flopping onto the bed still rumpled from their earlier activities and let his thoughts wash over him. 

A part of him was excited that Brian had turned up, it showed that he wanted something, surely? If it was just about sex he could have got that anywhere on Liberty. 

Justin wasn’t entirely sure why Brian had shown up, but that was OK, maybe Brian didn’t know that either.

He rolled onto his stomach, reaching for his cell phone and dialled Daphne’s number. “Daph! You busy?” He asked as she answered. 

“Maybe I should be asking if you’re busy?” She asked, that tone in her voice that all females seemed to get when they wanted something.

Fuck, Justin remembered the work diary. If he’d remembered before he wouldn’t have called, he’d have rang Cam instead.

“I’m always busy, so busy in fact, I can’t just swan off.”

“It’s not swanning if it’s booked, though.” He could practically hear the pout in her voice.

“Come on, Justin, aren’t you in the least bit curious to find out what Mary Eccles and Billy Crook have been up to? Maybe he knocked her up and they’re both married now, living with her parents. Euw, can you imagine?”

“I don’t want to imagine,” Justin drawled, “anyway, can we get back to the reason why I called.”

“You mean that wasn’t the reason?”

“You want to talk about what two pricks from high school are up to when I could fill you in on how my trip home went?”

“Fuck, I totally forgot you went home, I’m sorry, how did it go, did you and your mom rip each others throat out?”

“Shut up and I may tell you. Tension is still strife on the homestead, but that’s not what’s important. I saw Brian.” He skipped to the important part, he’d leave his mother to another day.

“Fuck, that fuck! Did you give him what for?”

“I’d say he gave me what for.” Justin smirked, stretching out on the bed, feeling the slight ache deep inside him.

“You didn’t? After what he did? Fuck, he’s an asshole, don’t you have any sense?”

“We’ve sorted it all out now, it’s OK.”

“You actually talked about how he treated you?” Why were girls so damned persistent?

“Well, no, but you know we do our best talking between the sheets.” Phoning Daphne seemed less like a good idea by the second.

“You should have seen his reaction when I told him you ran off. No emotion at all, he’s a shit, and he doesn’t deserve you.” Daphne ranted

“He came to New York this weekend.”

“So what, he shouldn’t have left until he found you.” 

He hadn’t quite realised how much pent up anger his best friend had for Brian. He clutched the phone tighter and rolled onto his side, fingers running over stained sheets.

“Don’t be worried. I’m not going to run my life around him, I’m not going to let him hurt me. I’m not that naive little twink that ran off anymore.”

“I know you’re not, and it kills me to think of what you went through to leave that twink behind.”

“Don’t dwell on it, I don’t. And can we get back on track?” And away from the depressing, serious issues of his life. “Three years, and he’s still the best fuck I ever had.” Justin grinned.

“All those talented men in New York and you have to settle for Brian. He’s not good enough for you, even if he is one good fuck.”


	20. Mechanical Michelangelo

TWENTY Don't Worry When it Rains

Justin hunted through the cupboards, pulling out mugs in place of shot glasses and pouring a generous amount of vodka in each. "Am I a cartoon?" He called into the living room, he heard them converse, then Cam shouted out a smug, "no". Justin sighed irritably, and took the alcohol into their friends.

He set the mugs on the floor in front of his and Cam's friends, and sat cross-legged, closing the circle. 

"Is your sugar daddy rich?" One asked, causing Justin to send Cam a sour glare. The last thing he wanted was to discuss his weekend fuck fest with a bunch of horny guys.

The rain battered the windows outside, and thunder groaned ahead. Some of the guys were still dripping wet, but at least they had a warm place to stay. 

"I don't have a sugar daddy, I have enough sugar all on my own." Justin knocked back another shot, the vodka warming his stomach. 

"Do I have wheels?" Cam piped up innocently.

"Have you told him about us?" Peter was the youngest of them at seventeen, Justin hadn't known him when he'd been on the streets, but the others seemed to have adopted him and he'd started to tag along.  
"We had better things to do than talk about you guys."

"Guys, do I have wheels or not?"

"No!" Peter shot out, before setting his interest back on Justin.

"Cam said he's totally hot. An emotional cripple, but hot."

"And just how would Cameron know he's an emotional cripple?" Justin looked down his nose at him, and pushed a mug in front of him. 

"Cameron is all knowing, and all seeing, he's just worried that Justin will get shit on." Cameron said in a light manner with underlying seriousness.

"If he's hot, and has enough money to keep me in the manner I'd like to become accustomed, I'd over look the emotional cripple part." Leon sucked on a cigarette and leaned back on his elbows. "Do I have pussy?"

"Euw, and yes."

"Leon's right, man, keep him sweet and have an easy ride."

"Sweet and easy rides aren't in Brian's nature." Justin said. "Do I have a beard?"

Looks of confusion past between them. "Is it a beard? I suppose it could be."

"Not fair, yes or no answers."

"No then, definitely not a beard."

"I heard he was really old." Peter grinned like a kid and Justin couldn't help but laugh. 

"He's younger than Bren."

"I don't think any of us have had a steady before, I think it's sweet." Leon smirked, nudging Justin with his foot.

Justin lay on the carpet, looking up at the ceiling, staring lovingly at every crack, because they were his cracks and his ceiling, it gave him a sense of satisfaction and he fell in love with them a little more with each mouthful of alcohol he had. 

He didn't want to talk about Brian, he wanted to get drunk with his friends, play silly, childish games, because they rarely had a chance to have simple, honest fun and when they did all get together they had the best time cooping themselves in the apartment, drinking cheap vodka and doing things they never had a chance to as a kid.

Brian wasn't part of that, and Justin couldn't imagine him sitting on the floor with them, having immature fun that had nothing to do with fucking a nameless face. Maybe they would never fit into each other's lives. 

An odd weekend here and there wouldn't change that. Justin sat up enough to gulp on the bottle without dribbling. 

"Do I wear clothes?"

Peter burst out laughing and pummelled the carpet. "Does he wear clothes, man?"

Cam smiled and sipped at his vodka. "No, you don't. Am I a cartoon?"

Justin looked at Peter and grinned. "I suppose you could be."

"No fair, yes or no answers then?"

"Hmm, OK, no, you aren't."

"Hey, Jus," Leon piped up, changing the subject, "I got this tattoo a couple of weeks ago, it's for shit, can you do a cover up?" Leon pulled up his t-shirt, showing an average tracing and raised, angry skin. He peered closer at him, but didn't touch. 

"Shit man, looks infected to me, did you put any ointment on it?"

Leon shrugged, "Never bothered with my other ones."

"You should go to the hospital, get it looked at. No decent tattooist would touch you like that, no offence." Justin felt cold inside, and hoped his friend would do as he suggested.

"We can clean it up a little here, but you'll probably need antibiotics." He got up, stumbling only slightly as seeing Leon's tattoo had sobered him up somewhat. "Bathroom." Leon stood and followed him silently. 

Justin changed his leather gloves for latex ones. Becoming a tattoo artist had made him a little pedantic when it came to infection and he needed to be as safe as he could with all his clients. He washed the raw area with warm water first, then slightly soaped it, rinsing it and applying a mild antiseptic cream.

He pulled off the latex expertly and threw them in the bin. He shoved the tube of cream into Leon's hand. "Here, keep it, I have spares."

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. Though I'm mightily offended you went to another tattooist."

"He was hot."

Back in the living room, bodies sprawled over the carpet, they stopped speaking as they saw Justin. "Am I, that fucking monster from Monster's Inc?"

Peter burst out laughing again and the others slowly joined in, Justin took the post-it-note from his head and looked at it, seeing Sulley in big, bold letters.

"Sulley? And you don't call him a cartoon?" Justin pouted, they always cheated at this game. 

"It's not a cartoon, it's animation, totally different things."

"And you had trouble deciding if he had a beard or not, you guys are seriously fucked."

"He's a monster, he had fur all over, not just in the chin area."

"So who the hell am I?" Cam pulled his post-it-note of his had and took a look. "Santa? How the hell was I supposed to get that?"

***

The two friends lay facing each other in Cam's bed, listening as Leon and Peter murmured softly whilst getting ready to sleep the rest of the night away in Justin's bed.

The rain still beat against the windows, droplets bursting against the roof, as if trying to get in to them, almost as if telling them it was wrong for them to be inside. 

Some people were just meant to be street kids. But not them, god, not them. Justin pulled the sheets up to his chin, basking in the warmth of central heating and soft blankets. 

Leon and Peter didn't have that. They had a doorway, a bridge or a friend's apartment, but they had nothing of their own to keep the ice seeping into their veins.

"They're gonna stay as long as the rain holds out." Cam said as if he could read Justin's mind. "They don't resent us because we got out."

"I know, I just...I can't help feeling relieved that we don't have to worry when it rains. My friends are out in it day and night, and I'm just glad it's not me."

"They aren't out in it now, they're sleeping in your bed. They know we're here for them, that we'll take them in, but they also know we aren't a drop in centre. If we can get off the streets so can they."

"We had each other though, and Bren."

"And Leon has Peter and as much as I love Bren, he didn't get us off the streets. He made you work for peanuts, he hated me and refused to let even you, stay with him."

"He thought we'd steal his silver."

"He gave you a career break, but we clawed our way out of the gutter and no one can take credit for that but us. We didn't get this apartment because of Bren, it was our dream long before that."

A dream come true, both of them cleaning up and getting a decent job. Justin didn't like the rain, he could hear each raindrop whisper to him as it exploded against the windowpane, watery voices telling him he didn't deserve everything he'd worked so hard to get.

"Are you going to tell me about Brian?" Cam asked.

Justin stared at him, so close he could barely see Cam's silhouette in the darkness. "You know everything already."

"I know about the past, but I don't know the recent stuff. Why did he visit?" Cam lay a hand over Justin's waist, getting comfortable.

"I don't know why he was here, and I didn't press it."

"In case he ran off, tail between his legs? Literally."

"Something like that. Being with Brian is like a roller coaster ride. Scary as hell, sickening, addictive, all consuming. I wanted it to be different this time. More equal, less turmoil. For that to happen he has to be around, If I push too much he'll probably fuck off and I'll never get the chance to see what could happen with us. Either way I could end up alone, but that seventeen-year-old kid inside me tells me I'll regret it if I don't try." Justin threaded his fingers with Cam's and squeezed. "Who knows, I could realise I hate the fucking sight of him."

Cam chuckled softly and leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss to Justin's lips. 

"Maybe people like us aren't supposed to have relationships." Justin's words were starting to slur, alcohol and tiredness taking their toll. 

"People like us aren't supposed to have apartments, people like me will probably die before you decide what you want."

Justin frowned and pulled Cam closer, hands wrapping around the worn fabric of his friend's t-shirt. "Don't say it like that, you'll be around for a very long time."

"Are you going to tell Brian?"

"About you?" Justin asked, not wanting to think much about what he would and wouldn't tell the older man.

"About everything," and he stressed the word everything."

"Need to see how it goes first, no point in telling him if we decide we hate each other in a few weeks."  
Cameron snorted but remained quiet. 

"Do you think the reason we get on so well is because we met at night?" Justin asked suddenly, the rain becoming louder to his ears. 

He felt Cam shrug, and heard a soft "Maybe," next to his ear.

"The darkness is like a safety blanket, you can tell your innermost fears beneath it, fears, that in the light of day, are just too difficult to talk about."

"You're a depressing drunk, Justin."

"You didn't drink at all."

"Someone had to play grown up." Cam shifted onto his back and stared at the darkness in front of him.

"I think the darkness is spinning."

"Go to sleep, Jus," Cam said, and he did.


	21. Mechanical Michelangelo

TWENTY ONE My Guitar

Justin worked with a precision he learned two years ago, removing the ball in the pen, sharpening the tip, and uncoiling the guitar string. His insides churned, making him feel sick, memories to close to the forefront of his mind. It was as if just touching these things brought back the feelings he had back then. They were an emotional time machine and he was transported back in time.

Excitement running through his veins, sickness churning in his stomach, knowing it was wrong, but unable to stop it because it was what he deserved and the only thing that made him feel.

He worked in the darkness, the only light from the living room, casting an eerie glow over the table. It was better this way, his hands remembered what to do more than his eyes did. He felt along the pen, touched the guitar string and knew exactly what to do without looking. His fingers shook a little, but it didn’t matter, he carried on, all the time listening out for the key in the lock, knowing that it would be Brian and not Cam. 

Justin swallowed, gulping down his emotions, refusing to let them rise. It was now or never. Battle of the Bands had come and gone, and they had talked in the only way Brian knew how, by actions, by fucking. Justin briefly wondered if Brian’s family knew where he was spending his weekends, then shrugged it off as unimportant. There were more important things to think of tonight, the beginning of the end, or maybe the end of the beginning.

Justin would do his talking with actions too, before it was too late, before he got sucked into Brian Kinney’s world only to have him reject him again. He couldn’t hide forever, and he didn’t want to.

The door opened and he paused for a second, before carrying on.

“Justin?” Brian called out, but Justin didn’t answer, he didn’t think his voice would work even if he wanted to. 

Brian eventually made his way into the kitchen, hesitating when he saw Justin sitting at the table. “What you doing in the dark?” He flicked the switch and saw Justin wince.

Justin put the pen down, unable to continue with the harsh lights over head. His memory didn’t know how to do this surrounded by light. He didn’t look at Brian, couldn’t. Just continued to look at the items on the table, items he’d placed there with such precision. 

“Do you know what you can do with a ballpoint pen, toothbrush, a guitar string, and a walkman?” He asked slowly, making sure his words left his mouth complete.

Brian shrugged, uncomfortable, unsure of what was happening. “You’ll never build a guitar with that shit, that’s for sure.”

Justin didn’t laugh, it was almost like he didn’t hear him, like he was staring a hole through the table. With shaking hands he picked up the toothbrush, and fumbled in his pocket for a lighter. He held the flame underneath it, watching the plastic melt. “Can you turn the light off?”

Brian did as he asked silently, then sat down opposite, watching Justin manipulate the plastic. “What’s going on?”

“I’m telling you what I did. It’s amazing what you can learn on the streets. A toothbrush isn’t a toothbrush anymore, a walkman, not a walkman, and a pen? Oh it’s so much more than a pen,” he said it wistfully, thinking back to those nights, when he’d first found this, when it was new and exciting and something to live for. 

“What are you doing?”

“Didn’t you ever wonder how I got into tattooing? Did you think Bren saw talent in a young street artist and gave me a break? This was my first taste of tattooing.” Quick fingers threaded the metal string through the pen, attaching each part like a pro.

“I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t expect you to. In some ways I overtook you on life experience years ago.” He plugged one end of the wire into the walkman then pressed fast forward, the sharpened end of the guitar string vibrating.

“Do you like it?”

“I think you’re seriously fucked.” Brian went to stand, but stopped as Justin pressed the tip to his own arm. “Fuck, Justin, what are you doing?” He leaned over the table and pulled at his wrist until Justin looked up and pressed stop. 

“This is a home made tattoo gun, though it really should be called street made, I suppose. My first taste of tattooing.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Justin blinked, almost sleepily and looked down at his arm. “It’s OK, there isn’t any ink in it. This was a show for you, actions speak louder than words after all, a glimpse into my life, the reason for this.” He held up his hands, for once uncovered by the gloves, but didn’t show Brian his palms.

“Some of the guys tattooed a lot, themselves, each other, but I had that added extra, I could actually draw, it didn’t take long for me to get the hang of the needle. I started off small, my ankles, Celtic patterns that don’t quite fit with the vines?” 

Brian nodded, he’d noticed, how could he not?

“Experimenting in tone, shading, and lines. I liked it. Fuck, more than liked it. Tattooing is addictive and the pain was the only way I knew I was alive.” He paused, slightly, remembering. “It rained the day it started. I hate the rain; it’s so suffocating, cold and unforgiving.” He placed his hands on the table, palms skywards. “It started off as a pattern at first, but I just couldn’t stop, I carried on until all I could see was black.” Justin looked at his hands, with something akin to horror on his face, his palms were a dull grey in colour, and he could barely remember it happening. It was a shock each time he saw them.

“Tattoos are just like any other wound on the skin, they scab over, but I never stopped, just kept jabbing the needle in, filling my skin with colour. But it wasn’t about the art, it stopped being art the moment I touched that guitar string against my hands.”

“Then what was it? Why?” Brian reached over, hesitating before touching Justin’s hands, then letting his fingers feel the roughened, uneven skin when he didn’t pull away. 

“Self infliction. Cutting off my nose to spite my face? Hurting the only thing I had left because I wasn’t worthy? I was injecting open wounds with ink, reopening wounds with an unhygienic needle in an unhygienic street, with unhygienic people. They got infected and it was almost a relief.” Justin pulled his hands away and crossed them over his chest. “That’s when Bren found me. He kicked my ass, dragged me to hospital, kicked my ass again, told me he liked my work, kicked my ass and gave me an apprenticeship.”

“They seem alright now.” Brian said, pulling at Justin’s arms and feeling the contours of his hands, the flesh of his thumb, the differing texture that couldn’t just appear with hard labour. 

“Yeah, the ink is fading fast with all the friction hands go through.” Brian didn’t even attempt to joke about it. “And they’re healed now, slightly scarred, but I can paint, and tattoo. That wasn’t the end of it though.” 

How did he even attempt to put it into words? Justin was at a loss, he stared at Brian, blue eyes startlingly bright in the darkness, he licked his dry lips, skin scraping over his tongue.

“I got hepatitis,” he blurted it out, not knowing any other way to broach the subject.

“Shit, Justin...Which?”

“B.”

Brian stood up and unsure why he’d moved, stalked to the jar of instant coffee and started to make himself a cup. “You’re lucky it wasn’t C,” he bit out, reeling at the information. 

“It’s OK, you’re safe, Brian, if I still had—I wouldn’t have,” he shook his head, hair falling in front of his eyes, blocking out the view of Brian turning away from him.

“I’m protected against A and B, anyway.” Brian said, as he stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

“I still wouldn’t, it was acute, I got over it within the allotted six months thanks to Bren’s intervention.”

“Good, ol' Bren,” Brian said scornfully.

Justin glared at his lover’s back, standing up and picking up the tattoo gun, banging it down on the work surface nearest Brian. “He saved me, why are you being like this? I didn’t put you at risk.”

Brian swilled around and clutched Justin’s upper arms painfully. “I know you didn’t, but you put yourself at risk. How could you do that? Didn’t I teach you anything?”

Justin shrugged him off, “You taught me all there is to know about safe sex and being a, fucking, asshole. A good start on my road to adulthood, yes, but getting hepatitis wasn’t about who I was fucking, this was about dirty needles and street living. Not even you could teach me about that.” He pushed the crude tattoo gun closer to Brian. “Go on, take a look, could I have learned that from you?”

“You’re, god damned, pathetic,” Brian ran his hand through his hair, “poor little Justin, lived on the streets. You had a home, you had somewhere to go, you just chose not to.”

Justin laughed, making his throat ache. “Yeah, all these people willing to take me in, but no where I could really call a home. You made me feel so—small, Brian, a convenient fuck and at the time I was willing to put up with that, if that meant I could be with you. But not now, not anymore, you don’t have the right to call me pathetic. That is one thing I have never been.” It had taken him a long time to believe that, but he finally did, and Brian’s outburst wasn’t going to change it. “Why the fuck do you keep coming back if I’m so ‘god damned pathetic’? Don’t you dare say you don’t know. I just laid myself bare to you, told you something I spend every hour trying to forget.”

“Maybe I did feel guilty, maybe I needed to make sure you’d done alright. Fuck, Justin, do you know how serious hepatitis is?”

“I think I, more than most, know how serious it is. I lived with it, unsure if I’d beat it, if I’d have to live with it inside me forever, always worrying I’d infect someone, worrying my liver would fail that I’d end up dead, that, because of the way I was living, I wouldn’t be able to fight it off.” he gulped, his throat closing around his words, “I still live with it.” Justin closed his eyes. “Cam is chronic, and you know what? It’s probably my fault.”


	22. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian’s head throbbed as he stared at the computer screen, scrolling down and consuming all the information he could about hepatitis B. He was a gay man, he knew the risks of unprotected sex and he knew to get vaccinated for the A and B strains, but he still didn’t know much about it. 

No one talked about hepatitis like they talked about AIDS or HIV and he was as guilty as anyone for not knowing enough.

Justin said he didn’t have it anymore, and Brian believed him, knew that the blond wouldn’t put him at risk, but Brian didn’t know if it left Justin with any permanent damage and he couldn’t talk to him about it.

He needed to know more about it before he confronted Justin again, that’s if Justin would see him again. He hadn’t left on the best of terms, but he couldn’t deal with it, needed more background history so he could talk to Justin about this and not just shout. 

Talk, Brian snorted to himself, unbelieving that he was even thinking about talking, but this was something that couldn’t be swept under the rug or made better by fucking. He never thought he’d see the day he would believe that.

He printed a particular page, wanting to go over it again, knowing he retained the information easier if it was on a printed page and not just on a monitor. He rolled his chair to the printer and waited impatiently for the paper to feed through. 

He took a stapler, attaching the sheets in order and pulled a pencil out of the drawer, ready to make notes in the margins. 

This was just like researching a new product, he would read all the information there was on the subject, he would make notes, even high light a few important passages. He would build the presentation up in his mind and hope that he hadn’t blown it with Justin and he would not think about the crude tattoo gun touching Justin’s skin. Just like a presentation. 

There was a harsh bang on the door of his loft and he glared at it before ignoring it, going back to his papers. The banging refused to cease and Brian shoved the papers off his lap, sending them flying, and stomped over to the door, yanking it open.

It took him a moment to recognise the petite girl with curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Someone let me in,” she looked over her shoulder before turning back and straightening her shoulders. 

“Daphne.” She’d grown up somewhat in the years since he’d seen her, she’d filled out, in what he was told, were all the right places. It didn’t look like she’d ever grown out of interfering in her best friend’s life, though. 

“Brian.” Her tone was almost as cold as the frosty look she was giving him. He hadn’t even been aware that Justin was still in touch with Daphne, it made him realise how little he knew about the other man. “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside from her and shut the door. She looked around the loft, taking in the slight changes, he’d almost forgotten she’d been here before. She stopped in front of the papers on the floor and picked them up, glancing through them.

“You could have asked him about all this, you know. It would have saved a lot of time, ink, paper, and heartache.” She gave him the evil eye as he lounged on his sofa.

“Ask him about what? I didn’t know what to ask him, hence this.” He waved his arm towards the computer. “What is all this? Did Justin call you up and cry down the phone about how I treated him? Are you here to tell me what a complete asshole I am?” He said calmly, raising one eyebrow and smirking in that special way people expected of him.

“Asshole maybe, but this,” she rustles the papers at him, “proves you’re not a complete asshole.” She sat down next to him, placing the papers on his lap. “And Justin hasn’t cried in three years. I think, some things just go beyond tears.”

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence, Brian wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to talk, but what he did know was, it wouldn’t be with her. 

“Why do you have to do everything the hard way? Couldn’t you have told him something, anything to make him believe you didn’t leave because of what he told you?”

“It was a shock, I didn’t go there prepared for that.”

“You were preparing for a good, long, hard fuck, huh? This was hard for him to talk about and you walked out on him.”

“I didn’t walk out, I just needed to sort it all out in my head.”

“What’s to sort out? It’s in the past, you weren’t involved, he only told you because he thought you should know, not so it would make you think differently of him.”

“I don’t think differently. And it’s none of your business anyway.”

“If you want another side of the story, by someone who was there, and probably doesn’t have such a jaded perspective of the whole thing, you should talk to Cam.” Daphne sighed when Brian didn’t answer and stood up. “Doesn’t look like I’m getting anywhere.” She walked to the door, sliding it open and almost walking into Michael. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, are you OK?” Mikey looked her up and down, frowning slightly. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” she looked over her shoulder at Brian, “think about what I said. He’s coming to town in a few weeks, four whole days in the Pitts.” She grinned wickedly, stepping around Michael, who stood between them; piggy in the middle.

“Oh?” Justin hadn’t mentioned that to him.

“He says not, but he’ll be here—he never could resist my charms.” She waved slightly and ran down the stairs.

“Who’s she talking about, Bri?” Mikey looked down the steps, as if they could give him some answers.

“No one,” he knew he sounded impatient, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Is your hot-shot client coming to town and you have to wine and dine him?” Mikey chuckled and shook his head. “It’s such a hard life for you. Is that why you have this weekend off, because he’s coming to town instead? Which, by the way, you could have told me about.”

“I might not be out of town on business, but I’m still researching.” Researching how to understand why his lover had done such a thing to himself, and what the long term problems would be. Or he would be researching if people didn’t keep interrupting him.

“I thought you were away on business,” Mikey grinned before flopping down on the sofa next to Brian.

Brian took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Sometimes he thought Justin had the right idea—get the fuck out while he still can—away from the claustrophobic circle of friends.

“I am working, Mikey, researching from the comfort of my own home.”

“You never told me, we could have gotten together, maybe we can go to Babylon tonight?”

“Don’t you have a husband and pseudo son at home to look after?”

“Who was the girl? Don’t tell me you’re turning hetro.” Mikey grinned at him. “She seems kind of familiar, have I met her before?” He searched his brain, trying to place her.

“Maybe she just has one of those faces.”

“I’ve met her, I just can’t place her…”

“She’s offering me some advice.”

“About your client?”  
“Something like that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, more like distortion of the truth. Still, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he’d never lied to Mikey before. Evaded the truth, lied by omission, distorted the truth, but not down right lie.

It was just easier to lie to him right now, than to try and put into words what was happening, when he didn’t know himself.

Mikey snorted and leaned back. “She seems kinda young to be offering you advice. What about tonight? I don’t think one night out at Babylon will hurt them.”

“Then go, but I have things to do.” He tightened his grip on the papers in his hand.

“What’s that?” Mikey saw the papers and looked over, scanning the front page quickly. 

“It’s confidential,” Brian folded them in half and stood up, putting them next to his computer and minimising the window. He was not going to tell Michael about Justin, his best friend felt threatened enough by the other man as it was, and Brian didn’t want Mikey pissing up his leg tonight. “And I have to get back to it, bye bye, Mikey.” He stood pointedly, waiting for him to get the message, and sighing when he could finally shut the door on his best friend. 

***

“Sex isn’t a good form of pain management when it’s your job.” Cam shouted over the heavy beat of drums and guitar riffs. “I’m around porn, butt plugs, dildos and nipple clamps enough without wanting to go back to it for pain management.”

Bren laughed and leaned back on his stool. “You don’t drink, you don’t do drugs, how do you go about managing your pain?”

Cam shrugged and sipped at a bottle of water. “Maybe I don’t need to manage my pain anymore.”

“What about him?” They both looked into the direction of the mosh pit, noticing Justin’s blond hair standing out in a sea of black dye. 

“Make sure he only tattoos other people at work.”

“You think I need to worry?”

“He opened his heart to the bastard and told him about how you found us, and the state he was in, the bastard ran off and hasn’t called all week. After all the shit he’s seen on the streets there’s still a part of him that’s shocked when people let him down.”

“Did Daphne call you? She’s still trying to get Justin to go home for a long weekend.”

“Yeah, she said she went to see Brian, didn’t look like it made much difference, she also told him to call me if he wanted a different view on what happened. He hasn’t done that either. Brian is an asshole, if you ask me, he deserves a good beating.”

“I didn’t ask you, Cam.” Cameron turned around, not realising Justin had left the mosh pit. “Don’t say anything. He hasn’t come because I refused to speak to him, I’m through with him, he can go find a new play thing. He’s out of my system and I don’t want to know anymore, OK?” His voice held a hint of desperation. “Now, get the fuck up and lets mosh.” He pulled Cam off the stool and dragged him to the dance floor.

Bren watched them from the sidelines, nursing a beer and frowning slightly. Maybe moshing was Justin’s form of pain management. Angry, painful, full of emotion, depending on the song and you could lose yourself in it.

Feeling suddenly motivated he downed the rest of the bottle and pushed himself off the stool, intent on joining his friends in managing their pain.


	23. Mechanical Michelangelo

Drowsily, Cameron fell out of bed and into a semi clean pair of boxers. Still pulling them up over his hips he padded through the living room, cursing under his breath as the cold hit his bare skin. 

He opened the door and couldn’t help smirking at the well dressed man on the other side. He pointed a finger and tutted, standing aside to let his friend’s lover inside. “You never called me.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” Brian took off his coat, and folded it over the back of the chair, very much a guest. He looked uncomfortable and Cam couldn’t help but feel pleased over it.

“Justin’s at work.” 

“I know.” His admittance didn’t get past Cameron and he felt his anger softening slightly, only slightly though.

“So, what do you want to know? If Justin infected me, if he could have infected you, why he messed up his hands?”

“We’ll start with the hands.” Brian sat down and Cameron sat opposite, tucking his feet underneath himself.

“When you have everyone from all directions telling you you’re not worth anything you start to believe it. Family don’t want you, boyfriend doesn’t want you,” Cam lifted an eyebrow, warning the other man not to be flippant about the boyfriend comment. “The city doesn’t want you, and the other people that are like you are too busy with their own problems to even thinking about wanting you, and the people that do want you, only want you for one thing.”

“What are you saying?”

Cameron rolled his eyes, and spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. “I’m saying, that, he started to believe it too, he wasn’t worth the air that he breathed, and what is more important than air to an artist? His hands. He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve the art they created and they weren’t doing anything to help him anyway, were they?” 

Cameron reached down, feeling around the base of the chair for the bottle of Cola he’d left there the night before. “I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, and Justin doesn’t blame you for it. If anyone is to blame it’s that mother of his for throwing out her kid. You don’t know how much anger he still feels over that, but he loves her, though I can’t see why.” Cameron shrugged, realising he was rambling a little too freely. “Can you understand why now?”

Brian leaned back, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, emotions churning in his stomach like the starting of a bad hangover. His own childhood hadn’t been a picnic, but he’d had Mikey, he’d had a refuge. What did Justin have, if he thought he couldn’t come home? Brian had never thought of it like that, he’d always thought Justin had been some stupid, stubborn kid who ran off to New York to play martyr and took it too far.

“I understand. He felt worthless, and that feeling didn’t come from the streets. “It came from him, Justin’s father and mother all planted the seeds to Justin’s breakdown. “And, did he infect you?”

Cam tipped his head back and laughed. “Is that what he told you?” He took a few gulps of Cola from the bottle. “Maybe, probably, fuck, who knows? And who cares. We were all taking risks out there every day, I could have had it before I met Justin, my immune system was shot to hell, whatever. He wouldn’t have put you at risk, Brian.” Cam was deadly serious now.

“I know, I just want to know how he could have been so careless…”

“It’s not like he got it because he was fucking without a condom, or one split, or he was doing drugs, this wasn’t about sex. When you take sex-ed at school no one mentions hepatitis and if they do, they don’t mention getting it from dirty guitar strings.” He leaned forward, eyes more serious than his laid back manner. “Do you know how hard it was for him to tell you about that?”

“He didn’t tell me, he gave me some fucked up demonstration.” Brian shuddered at the memory of Justin, so enthralled with that crude tattoo gun.

“And why did he do that? How would you tell a lover that didn’t believe in talking, only believed in actions? Could you sit down and have a heart to heart about it, or would you have to shock them into listening, show them through actions, what had happened? Make them listen…make them see?”

 

***

Justin flicked through the appointment book, glancing at the clock to see when his next client was due. He had five minutes to kill, and he took full advantage of them by making himself a strong cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. 

Steaming mug in hand, he walked over to the small waiting area and interrupted the one man there with his head buried in a magazine. “Fetch Dixon?” He asked and the man threw the magazine down, and screamed excitedly.

“Justin!” Emmett pulled the shocked blond into his arms. “It’s good to see you, baby.”

Justin laughed and hugged back. “You too, I had no idea…Fetch Dixon?”

Emmett nodded proudly. “My porn star name, you mean you’ve never heard of me?” He pouted slightly, but it was ruined by the huge smile plastered over his face. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You didn’t have to book in for a tattoo to do that.”

“I wanted to! Who else would I get to tattoo me, but you? Do you know how long I had to wait for this appointment? You are one popular twink.”

“I know,” Justin winked and pulled Emmett into a cubicle in the back room. “So you really want a tattoo? You’re positively sure? Because I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I do, I have an idea, I want, a little fairy dancing in a sea of flames, on my arm here.” He pulled up his sleeve and pointed to the top of his arm.

Justin raised an eyebrow, “You want me to tattoo boobs to your arm?”

“A male fairy? With a nine inch cock?”

“A cock that will just deflate as you age,” Justin said dryly, sliding a piece of paper across the small table and starting to sketch quickly. “How about something like this?”

Emmett stood up and peered over his shoulder. “Oh my god, that is so good,” Justin carried on drawing, changing the colour of his pencils as he went, tinting the page. 

Flickering flames grew from the page, in soft oranges and yellows, the lighter yellow inside of the flame creating a subtle crown.

“This is it, the tattoo of my dreams. Thank you, baby.” He bent down and kissed Justin’s cheek. 

“Take the picture home, if you like it in a couple of months, I’ll tattoo you, but you need to think about it.” Justin was adamant that Emmett not do anything on the spur of the moment, only to regret it later.

“Well, if you say so…”

“I do, it’s another excuse for you to come visit me. So, how long you in town?”

“Just the night, so, what’s a fag to do in a town like this?”

“I can show you the scenes,” Justin grinned, “So, need anywhere to stay?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“So, tell me about the Pitts, what’s happening, what’s everyone doing?”

“Well,” Emmett rubbed his hands together, glad to be gossiping. “I’m a fabulous party planner still. Mikey has his comic book store, but you already knew that. Brian is barely around, he’s busy getting Kinnetik off the ground and he’s off every weekend drumming up clients, the back room is bare, I tell you. You need to come home for another visit, now the air is cleared, we can catch up properly. We really did miss you, sweetie.”

Justin smiled, somewhat awkwardly. Emmett was a great guy, and he’d enjoyed spending time with him and the others when he first came out, but they weren’t his friends, they were Brian’s friends and he was the kid he liked to fuck on occasions. 

“I missed you too, Em. Anyway, as you’re my last client of the day, we can head off now, take your stuff back to mine and we can get ready to party. We can go to Diva, you’ll love it.”


	24. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin wasn’t paying attention as he let Emmett into the apartment. It took him a full thirty seconds before seeing the tall and brooding brunette sitting on the sofa. At the same time he noticed Brian, Emmett let out a shriek, making Justin’s ears ring.

“Brian?” Emmett exclaimed, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Brian stood, not liking the disadvantage of being lower than everyone else. Cameron sat where he was, happy to be a silent onlooker. 

“Yeah, Brian, why are you here?” Justin’s face was void of emotion, eyes like ice chips.

“Why else would I be here? I came to see you.”  
Unaware of the tension between the two men, Emmett gave Justin a Debbie-sized hug. “It’s amazing, to think that we both picked the same weekend to visit. Great minds and all that, hey, Brian?”

Brian didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on Justin, who carefully disentangled himself from Emmett’s grasp.   
“Amazing, right?” Outwardly Justin was calm, blank, but inside he was seething, because knowing, and actually *knowing* Brian hadn’t told his friends about his weekly visits were two different things. “Emmett tells me, you’ve been busy practically every weekend for the past month. What have you been doing? Were you with clients, drumming up business, or is that just what you told Mikey?”

“You mean…”Emmett’s voice trailed off when he realised he wasn’t witnessing the first reunion of Brian and Justin.

Justin looked over at his friend and nodded. “Yeah, I’m his dirty little secret.” Justin shook his head, unable to believe he’d fallen for Brian’s bullshit again. He went to walk away, but Brian grasped his arm and spun him around. 

“You’re not my dirty little secret.” 

“Emmett, is it? Nice to meet you, I’m Cam. You hungry?” Cam said to Emmett.

Justin struggled to get his arm free, stepping away from the older man, anger finally showing on his face. “What, the fuck, am I then?” When Brian didn’t answer, he carried on. “I’m not your friend, because we all know you don’t fuck friends. I’m not your lover because Brian Kinney doesn’t do relationships, and to earn the title of lover it has to be more than a roll in the hay. I’m not a friend, or a lover, so you don’t need to tell your friends about us, right? In my book, that makes me your dirty little secret.”

“Nice to meet you too, Cam, and I’m starving.” Emmett helped Cam up from the chair.

“You’re not my dirty little secret, stop saying that. The reason I didn’t tell this lot,” he waved his arm at Emmett, “Is because it’s none of their god-damned business.”

“Go home Brian, go back to your adoring fans and faceless fucks. I poured my soul out to you last week and you didn’t give a shit.”

“Let’s go out for dinner.” Cam didn’t want to witness this particular argument.

Brian stalked towards Justin, until they were face to face, almost touching, and Justin had to look up into Brian’s eyes. “You’re the guy I fuck more than once.”

“Don’t you need to get dressed first, Cam?” Emmett asked.

Cameron looked down and realised he was only in his boxers. “Oh, yeah, you can help me, let’s go.”

Justin grabbed Brian’s jacket from the back of the sofa and threw it at him. “ Not anymore, you can go back to your no repeats policy, because, believe me, if I’m just the guy you fuck more than once, I don’t want to know anymore. I can get a regular fuck else where and he won’t be half so much trouble as you are.”

“Fuck, Justin…this didn’t seem to bother you before. For the last month I’ve been coming over here and fucking your brains out.”

“Yeah, you were, and you know what else we did? We went out, we had dinner, you talked to me like an equal and just when I decide I didn’t want there to be any secrets between us, or any barriers when we were in bed, you bolt.”

“I had to sort it out in my own head, before I could soothe yours.” Brian ran a hand through his hair impatiently. 

“I wanted to touch you without leather gloves between us. But I didn’t want to do that during sex and for you to stop, for the conversation to ruin the only thing we seem to be good at.”

“So you let me walk into your apartment while you’re making a tattoo gun, mutilating yourself, then you drop the bombshell of hepatitis and you don’t expect me to be freaked?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I couldn’t talk about it, that I couldn’t get my mouth around the words to just say it—that I had to take myself back to that dark place and show you because unspoken words, just weren’t enough? Though, if all I am to you is the guy you fuck more than once, I don’t know why I bothered.”

Brian paced slightly, his thoughts not allowing him to stay still like Justin. He span on his heels, facing Justin, mouth open to say something before shutting and opening again. “This is hard for me you know. The only other thing I’ve had even halfway resembling a relationship was with you when you were seventeen. Relationships are bullshit. Lovers end up hating each other and friends take advantage.” He started pacing again. “I don’t want that with you.”

“And you won’t get it. I’m not in this to beat you, I’m not in it because I want your genes and I’m not going to whine because you have a life outside my limited circle of friends.” Justin crossed his arms. “What you will get is my respect, but I want it in return.”

“You already do. I respect how you’ve come out of all this on top, but I’m scared of what could have happened, all the what ifs playing through my mind like a silent movie. I should have found you, saved you.”

“I don’t need you to save me, Brian, and I didn’t need you then. This isn’t about need. I want you, I actually like you, and I hope you feel the same.”

“Oh, I do…want me to prove it to you?”

Justin shook his head slowly. “Yeah, I do. But not like that. If you want sex right now, you can go find a trick.”

“Stay at mine.” He stopped pacing, making Justin jump a little.

“What?” Justin gave Brian a puzzled look.

“Stay at mine, when you visit Daphne, stay at the loft with me. I can guarantee you won’t be a secret. I can’t guarantee it won’t be dirty though.” 

Cameron and Emmett slipped out of the front door unnoticed.

***

Diva was booming with gay men in an array of multicoloured clothes, grinding to the beat of popular dance music. It sounded wrong to Justin’s ears, and he didn’t recognise the song, even though it was recent. 

This certainly wasn’t his scene anymore, but Emmett seemed to love it. Drag queens with big dresses and bigger hair danced on podiums in the middle of a revolving dance floor and scantily clad men sauntered around the crowd offering shots to anyone silly enough to pay their prices.

Emmett had two. 

“This is a fantastic place.” Emmett shouted, clapping his hands to the beat.

They stood at the edge of the revolving dance floor, watching the men dance past them. Justin and Cam stood close to each other, unconsciously seeking each other out whilst in strange territory. 

They stuck out like sore thumbs, the only men there to be heavily tattooed, and it gained them attention.

“Why haven’t you ever brought me here?” Brian asked, leaning down until his lips touched the shell of Justin’s ear.

“I wanted to show you *my* world. This is just showing the scene to Emmett.”

“Maybe you can show me the scene after we’ve had a dance.” Brian leered at Justin, but Justin just looked up. 

“You can see the scene from here.”

A balcony stretched around the whole club, and Brian could just make out bare flesh upon bare flesh through the flicker of the lights. It made his dick go hard.

“Lets dance, Em.” Justin pulled him onto the dance floor, Cameron followed, laughing.

Justin looked over to Brian and nodded his head, “Coming?” He shouted as the dance floor rotated. He gave Brian the choice of dancing with friends or fucking some stranger on the balcony. It came as a surprise when Brian joined in with them, Justin was sure the temptation of a strange ass and strange fucking place would lure him away.

Maybe Brian was changing too.


	25. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian didn’t let Justin have time to think. He pulled him into the loft, his lips descending until they touched Justin’s. The blond dropped his backpack at their feet, hands trailing up Brian’s arms and clutching the back of his neck. 

Worries about staying with Brian for the weekend flew from Justin’s mind the further Brian’s tongue plunged into his mouth. Brian slid the loft door shut as he pulled Justin further inside, then pushed him against the wall, nimble fingers working on the zipper of Justin’s jeans. 

Justin helped Brian push his pants down his thighs, and lifted his arms as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. The older man paused slightly as he felt Justin’s hand against his, free of leather, naked.

He pulled his head back enough to look into his eyes. “No barriers.”

“None.” Justin nodded and flung his t-shirt aside, setting to work on Brian’s shirt, stroking his hands over bare chest as he went, palm brushing over erect nipple, making him shiver at the sensation.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex without wearing the gloves. His hands felt so sensitive the slight rub of nipple to hand sent electricity down his arm. 

They made it to the bedroom as the last piece of clothing touched the floor. Justin pushed Brian, watching him fall back onto the pile of dark blue pillows piled high on silk sheets.

Brian’s chest was warm and smooth, slight hairs surrounding his nipples, tickling Justin’s hands. It was a good feeling. It was more than good. He trailed his hands downwards until coarse hair brushed his wrists.

All the nerve endings in his fingers were on fire, with each touch they ignited, sending blood to his cock. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to bear putting his gloves back on after this. It would be suffocating. 

Slowly, taking his time, revelling in the feeling of it, he placed his hand against Brian’s cock. The heat moved down his fingers, making them grasp the shaft firmly, feeling the silken skin move against his roughened palms.

“Fuck,” Brian moaned. 

“Skin on skin,” Justin said, rolling his eyes up to Brian’s, chuckling slightly as Brian’s head fell back as he tightened his grasp.

Justin’s other hand reached underneath, tracing Brian’s balls lightly, before cupping them and rolling. He leaned down, sucking the tip of Brian’s cock into his mouth, his tongue licking the smooth head in small circles.

Brian had never tasted so good to Justin, pre-come mixed with his saliva, and he moved his hand down the shaft harder, teasing him, wanting to taste him.

Slowly he hollowed his cheeks and sucked him into his mouth until the head of Brian’s cock touched the back of his throat. He closed his eyes, blond lashes touching cheek, his attention purely focused on the erection between his lips as he regulated his breathing, letting it slip further down his throat. 

Hands pulled at his hair, pulling, pushing, knotting in silken stands until they were stuck together. Brian thrust forward, unable to stop his hips from moving. Justin gripped his hips, his fingernails digging into skin, leaving little half moon indentations. 

He tightened his lips and pulled back, dragging his tongue up the base of Brian’s penis. Saliva stretched from the tip to Justin’s lips, and Justin followed the line back down, leaving tiny, infuriating kisses around the base of his cock, then up to his belly button. 

He slowly climbed over the older man until their lips touched and Justin’s two favourite flavours mingled together.

Using one hand Brian flicked the cap off the lube and squeezed, uncaring that it squirted over his sheets. He wiped his hand in it and trailed his fingers down the crack of Justin’s ass. 

Justin let go of Brian’s cock long enough to reach for a condom and roll it on him. They rolled until Justin was against the plush cushions and he lifted his legs over Brian’s shoulders, groaning as Brian pressed a finger inside him. He swivelled his fingers before pulling them out and looming over him, holding his hands above Justin’s head and threading their fingers, connecting them in more ways than one. 

Justin’s breath hitched as Brian’s cock slowly entered him, filling him inch by inch. He gripped Brian’s hands, lube making their fingers slide together. “No barriers.” Brian moaned, he leaned down, pressing his forehead to the side of Justin’s neck, and let one of his hands go in favour of pulling Justin’s hips closer to his, trying to bury himself further inside.

Justin reached between them, grasping his own cock and moving in time to Brian’s hips. He saw stars as Brian angled his hips, dick brushing against his prostate, sending pleasure to every part of his body, so much pleasure Justin didn’t think he could contain himself, and he couldn’t. He came, spurting over his hand and Brian’s chest, and Brian carried on, unforgiving, touching his prostate with every short, deep thrust. 

It was too much, Justin didn’t think he could take the pleasure, it pooled like liquid heat in his stomach, bursting forth painfully as Brian slammed into him one last time, screaming as he came, collapsing on top of him. 

It took Brian a while to sum up the energy to roll off Justin and when he did, he only moved far enough to pull of the condom and pull him close. He stroked Justin’s arm absently, tracing the tattoos down to his wrist and grasped it gently. He brought Justin’s hand to his mouth, kissing his little finger and tasting the blond’s own come. He sucked each finger into his mouth, tasting, not just his essence, but the trust Justin had placed him.

He licked down the pad of Justin’s thumb, nibbling on the fleshy base before swirling his tongue over the palm, lapping up any stray semen and committing the new texture of Justin’s bare hands to memory.   
***

Everyone assumed the heart of this weird bunch of friends was firmly in place at Debbie’s small terraced house, not much to look at, but love pouring out of every perfectly placed trinket. But it was the diner. It was where everyone gathered, it was where Debbie gave her best advice, and it was where everyone met up.

And it was the perfect place for Brian to take Justin so everyone knew where they stood. He pushed open the door and strode inside, sitting in his usual booth and smiling as Justin slid in beside him.

They were early, and he was glad. He wanted Justin firmly in place, like he’d never left. 

Debbie saw the blond head next to Brian’s and practically ran over. “Sunshine!” She popped her gum and squeezed in next to them, giving Justin a huge hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, he came alright.” Brian pushed his tongue into his cheek and smirked at her.

“Jesus Christ. You two?” Justin nodded. “You’re like Romeo and Juliet with all this, fucking, sneaking around.”

“Only with a better ending,” Brian said, making Justin’s heart jump. “Now, can we get some breakfast here, we need to keep our strength up.”

“Coming right up. Usual for you?” Brian nodded and Debbie scribbled on her bad. “How about you? No, let me surprise you, on me, it’s good to see you kiddo.” She ruffled his hair and was off like a shot. 

“Well, that was painless,” Brian said with a trademark smirk.

Justin slapped him slightly, “It wasn’t you she nearly squeezed to death.”

There was a slight tension in the air, and Brian knew it was because he was about to confront Mikey about his relationship with Justin. He frowned at his own thoughts, wondering when it had gotten to this stage. Surely Mikey should be happy for him. Happy he was admitting to a, somewhat, unconventional relationship with Justin, but a relationship just the same. 

The bell rang and Brian knew it was Mikey. He was in an animated conversation with Hunter, who managed to roll his eyes at least five times and look suitably bored before sliding into their booth.

Mikey’s voice trailed off as he saw Justin. “Justin…Hey, I didn’t realise you were back in town.”

“I’m visiting Daphne.” He gave Mikey a wide, innocent smile. “She was miffed she missed me last time I visited.”

“That’s nice. Ma, can we order over here?”

 

“It is nice of me, isn’t it Brian?” Justin turned to his lover, eyes bright, teasing.

Brian stirred more sugar into his coffee and nodded. “It’s very nice of you Justin. You’re an all round nice guy.”

“If you’re here to see this, Daphne, why the fuck are you here?” Hunter demanded, not liking this change in family dynamics. 

“Why the *fuck* am I here Brian?” 

“Maybe because he’s the guy I fuck more than once.”

Mikey was about to call out to his mother again when he caught Brian’s words, mouth hanging wide open he turned to Brian with a puzzled expression on his face. “What was that?” He must have heard wrong. No way could those guys work so fast.

Justin leaned across the table. “He said, I’m the guy he fucks more than once.”

“Huh, you’ve been back, what, less than twenty four hours and you’ve already fucked? What happened to letting the loft get burgled, to running off to New York and not getting in touch?”

“Those are old hurts, we over came them sometime in the last month, right?”

Justin nodded. “Right.”

“I don’t understand.” 

Hunter snorted and looked over at Mikey. “What’s to understand? Brian’s been in having it away in New York instead of meeting with clients.” Hunter said plainly, waiting for Michael to get a clue.

 

Emmett chose that moment to enter the diner, and upon seeing Justin let out a high pitched screech. “Baby, I didn’t realise you were coming down this weekend.”

Justin slipped out of the booth to give Emmett a hug. “Brian and Daphne finally managed to wear me down.”

“Well, I’m glad, it’s good to see you there again, like old times, only better.” They sat back down and Emmett pressed a loud kiss to Justin’s cheek. “So tell me how that delicious roommate is of yours?”

“He’s fine, told me to tell you that anytime you’re in New York he’d be happy to share his bed with you again.”

Emmett placed his hands on his heart. “Aw, he is such the sweetest guy.”

“Hold on, am I totally out of the loop here, when did you visit Justin?”

Emmett frowned and gave Michael a puzzled look. “I told you sweetie. I said I was going to get a tattoo by the best tattooing twink in America.” Emmett sighed. “You were probably too busy ogling your husband or spanking your son here to notice what little old me was saying.”


	26. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian clutched the tiny hand of his son as they crossed the road. The two adults were content to listen to his childish chatter until they reached the park.

Brian knew this would change once Gus was distracted by the adventure climbing frame. Michael would not be able to keep his mouth shut. He’d say it was the Italian Drag Queen in him, but Brian knew it was a Debbie thing, neither could keep their traps shut. 

As they reached the park Gus pulled away from him, running as fast as his little legs would carry him over the grass and woodchips, to the slide. “So,” Mikey started, “You’ve been visiting Justin all this time and you never told me?”

Brian shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. Outwardly calm, as if this conversation wasn’t important. “You’re not my mother, Mikey, and I am a big boy.”

“I am your best friend though, it hurts that you kept it from me.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to jinx it before it had even started. You know what this fucking family is like; no one can keep out of anyone’s business.” And Mikey was the worst. Brian hadn’t noticed it until recently; he’d probably even revelled in the attention, but not anymore. 

He was a grown man, and grown men had friends, even friends they’d had since childhood, but unlike the two of them, most men had grown out of the ‘best’ stage long ago.

“You’ve been visiting practically every weekend, it just doesn’t seem, I don’t know, very Brian-like.”

Brian raised an eyebrow and took one eye off his son to look at his best friend, trying not to seem offended. “And what is Brian-like?”

“Being an asshole, only thinking of himself, no regrets, no repeats, no boyfriends.”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty much like me, but who did that change for? I’m not saying I want a monogamous relationship, I’m not saying we have much of a relationship at all, but we have something, and no matter what it is, it’s ours and we both want it.”

This must be the longest conversation they’d had in a long time, Brian briefly wondered when they had turned to superficial banter and couldn’t remember. 

Mikey nodded. “I understand, you deserve to be happy. But I still don’t get it. How did one seventeen year old twink change it for you? I mean, he’s not even your type.”

“Isn’t he? Maybe he is my type and all the others aren’t. He’s the only one still around after all.” It had taken Brian a long time to admit it. He’d often wondered why he found Justin so appealing, wondered why he kept going back for more, he’d finally acknowledged the truth after Justin returned and Brian found himself seeking him out. The tricks were eye candy, good to look at, good to taste, but you didn’t want more than one of the same kind, and they were forgotten soon after. 

Justin had an inner strength, even at seventeen, an inner beauty that complemented his delicate frame and blond hair, blue eyed good looks. Even now, with the tattoos, and the harsh life reflected in his eyes he was innocent and beautiful in a way Brian had never been and never could be. 

“Daddy, push me!” Gus called as he climbed onto the swings. Brian walked over, Mikey slowly following.

“Sit down properly Gus,” he said before gently pushing his son, watching as Gus pushed out his legs, trying to touch the sky with his toes.

“It’s kinda funny really, Brian Kinney, choosing brain over brawn.”

Brian smirked. “Justin may be compact, but he’s very easy on the eye.” Mikey was beginning to get on his nerves, he shouldn’t have to explain his actions. “Is it so foreign to you that I’d choose Justin or are you pissed off that I didn’t choose another, small compact man to try my relationship skills on?” He raised an eyebrow and turned to Mikey, noticing the slight blush cover his cheeks.

“Maybe once I might have thought that. Not anymore though, you’d be too hard to keep up with, I’d have to be on my toes 24/7. I love what I have with Ben and Hunter.” He paused slightly, cocking his head to the side. “Justin isn’t that much older than Hunter. He was still a kid when you first fucked him, what could a seventeen year old and a thirty year old--.” 

“Twenty nine.”

“Twenty nine year old man, have in common?” 

Brian looked down at his son, happily swinging back and forth, totally unaware of the conversation going on above him. Justin had come into his life the same night as Gus, and no matter how much Brian shrugged it off as unimportant, part of him thought there must be more to it than that.

“Apart from the, fucking, fantastic sex, you mean?” 

Mikey nodded, “Yeah, apart from that.”

“He’s intelligent, he has his own opinions. We drink beer and smoke cigarettes, we can be loud, drunk, and talk about utter crap, or we can talk intellectually, he knows about art, he likes old Cary Grant movies, though don’t ask me why, and he’s strong. Age doesn’t come into it. Is that enough of a reason?” 

“I suppose it is. I’m not trying to put a damper on things or anything. I just don’t want you to get hurt. We’ve been friends too long for me not to interrogate the boyfriend.”

Brian groaned and bumped his shoulder to Mikey’s. “I hate that word, never use it again.”

“What should I use then? Partner, lover, other half?” Mikey laughed.

“Why do you have to call it anything?”

***

Molly looked wide eyed as Justin carefully drew a Celtic pattern on her upper arm in henna. He chuckled slightly to himself, he’d never seen his sister so quiet. The thick paste came out of the paper funnel in small, smooth lines, marking the skin perfectly. He kept the design simple and delicate.

Henna didn’t allow for different shadings like tattoos did, but he was pretty sure Molly would be happy with the end result, and his mom would be happy that it wouldn’t last.

“So, how long do I have to stay still like this?” Daphne asked, holding her hands stiffly. Justin looked up from Molly’s arm. “At least thirty minutes. Don’t smudge it.”

Daphne had gone for the more traditional hand patterns, wanting to show off the designs on their night out, but if she wasn’t careful she’d end up with a large brown splodge instead.

“My friends are gonna be so jealous.” Molly said happily.

Daphne went to pick up a cushion, wanting to get comfier on the hard floor. “Don’t you dare get henna over one of Brian’s cushions. And get your butt back onto the newspaper.” She rolled here eyes and shuffled back onto the paper Justin had placed all over the floor in the loft. 

“So, is it serious with you and Brian?” 

Justin concentrated on his work, uncomfortable talking about this in front of Molly. “We’re friends.”

“With benefits?” She smirked and blew on her hands, trying to dry the henna.

“What’s a friend with benefits?” Molly asked. Justin sent Daphne an evil glare.

“Yes Daph, what is a friend with benefits?” He smiled sweetly, blue eyes twinkling.

“It’s what two adults are before they decide to be boyfriend and girlfriend, or in your brother’s case, boyfriend and boyfriend.”

“Will people stop using that awful word,” Brian said as he walked through the front door. “Especially when in reference to me.”

“Or me. We’re not five years old.” Their eyes met briefly and they smiled.

“Then…what do I call you?” Daphne frowned.

“Why do you have to call them anything?” Michael said, with a slight smile in Brian’s direction.

“We’re not lesbians,” Brian added.

“Thank god. There you go, Mol. All done, but be careful not to smudge it.”

“What are you doing? This is nothing like the makeover parties Emmett made us have when we were roommates.”

“It’s henna. You want one?” Justin waved the tube in front of Michael, happy that Brian’s best friend was at least attempting to be pleasant. 

“I don’t think so…I think flowers and swirls will ruin my big butch image.”

“Oh go on, Mikey, I’m sure Ben will find it hot.” Brian smirked and flopped onto the sofa, away from the newspaper. 

“I promise not to draw anything too butch for you.” Justin bit the corner of his lip to stop from laughing and was surprised when Mikey relented and took off his jumper.

“Just a small one then…it’s not permanent is it?”

“No, they fade after a couple of weeks. Promise.” Justin went to work quickly, worried he might change his mind. 

“What are you doing?”

“Stop moving, or you’ll just have a blob.”

Within five minutes a crude pasted on image of the Superman symbol appeared. “Superman! See, Brian?” Mikey showed him his arm before battling with Molly for the hand held mirror to get a better look. “It’s my turn now, you’ve had it for ages.”

“It’s my mirror.” Molly pouted and held on for dear life.

Justin ignored them and started to clear away their mess. “In about thirty minutes you can pick it off, and you’ll be left with a dark yellowish design.” 

“And then we’ll get ready for the ball.” Daphne said, obviously excited to have Justin back like old times.


	27. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian pulled Justin’s jeans up over his thighs, buttoning them from behind. “Never thought I’d see the day when you were actually dressing me.” Justin watched him through the full length mirror, eyes on his talented fingers as they slowly did up the buttons, purposely pressing against his crotch, making him hard again. He scowled into the mirror, eyes linking with Brian’s through the glass. “Why’d I say I’d go again?”

Brian squeezed Justin’s shoulders and smirked. “Because Daph piled on the guilt and went behind your back with Bren.”

Justin threaded his fingers through his hair, tweaking the ends slightly, and wondering briefly if dying his hair purple would be a good idea. “Oh yeah.”

“You look hot.” Brian peered at him through the glass, resting his chin on Justin’s shoulder. “Even with all the war paint.” Brian slid a hand underneath Justin’s t-shirt, tugging at the frayed hem.

“War paint gives you strength.” He would show all of Daphne’s friends that he was his own man, that he was comfortable with what he was, and even if he hadn’t finished high school, he was still as successful as they were.

He turned in Brian’s arms, lips so close to his that he could feel the other man’s breath. He leaned forward, closing the distance, just as the buzzer rang. He groaned in dismay, letting Brian’s mouth swallow the noise, before another long, angry buzz had him hurrying quickly outside to his friend.

Daphne was bouncing excitedly from one foot to the other, shivering in her little black dress. “You look great.” He said and spun her around.

She chuckled and punched him in the arm. “It’s always safe to go with a classic…unless it’s not safe you want to go for.” She raised an eyebrow at him, taking in the slashed black wife-beater and low rise jeans. 

“This is safe.” He opened his arms, and looked down at himself before pushing Daphne towards her car. “Come on, you’re going to keep me waiting all night? We’ll be late.”

 

***

The room was full to overflowing with vaguely familiar faces. It took Justin a few minutes to add the extra years onto the faces he had filed away in his brain under St James Academy.

Why he’d let Daphne drag him hear he didn’t know. Everyone had dressed up, girls in fancy black dresses, or terrible pink, outdated prom dresses and boys in sedate black tuxes, like little sheep lined up for the slaughter house. 

As unofficial, celebratory, ‘we’ve almost finished’ College balls went, this one was lame. Expensive, glitzy and utterly fake, a band played, but it wasn’t the kind of band he was used to, they were sallow and looked tired, playing in slow motion, the noise the stringed instruments were making were almost enough to send him back to string tattooing. 

Daphne clutched his arm, her eyes busily searching the crowd for the people she was closest to at school. She had to make some friends when he didn’t return, Justin thought, though he didn’t have to like who she’d befriended.

“Mandy? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in months!” Daphne said, pulling away from Justin and hugging a girl Justin remembered sitting behind in Maths. She stared at him over Daphne’s shoulder, eyes widening in shock and then recognition. She pulled away from Daphne slowly, her eyes never leaving him.

“Justin Taylor?” She stepped closer, as if he were a specimen in their high school lab, disgusted yet attracted at the same time. “Daphne said you were coming, but I didn’t quite believe her…”

Justin smirked and resisted rolling his eyes. “Well, here I am, one and the same.”

“Hardly the same, we all wondered where you disappeared too. Everyone said your dad kicked you out because you were gay.” 

“I ran off to become a pole dancer,” he said dryly enjoying her expression. 

“That’s nice,” she forced a smile, “It’s great to see what everyone is up to now and, what are you up to now? Did you manage to finish school?”

“Oh no, school and pole dancing didn’t leave me enough time for fucking, so, something had to give.”

A smile froze on Mandy’s face, seeing the dilemma Daphne chuckled, trying to break the ice. “You’re so funny, Justin. He hasn’t pole danced a day in his life. He’s a tattoo artist.” She sounded proud of him, and Justin felt guilty for being such an ass.

“It’s amazing what you can do without a high school education.” The voice was deep, holding a lingering taste of menace. Justin turned to face the owner of the voice, images of beatings, taunting and blow jobs racing through his mind.

“Chris.” Justin said with false happiness. 

“Got AIDS yet?” Chris chuckled, and Justin was transported back to school and he realised these people hadn’t grown up in the three years they were at college.

“Have *you* got AIDS?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris’ cheeks took on a red hue, his eyes narrowing in anger, he hadn’t expected Justin to fight back, but Justin wasn’t a weak little faggot anymore, he wasn’t scared of the school jock.

Justin shrugged calmly, uncaring as people started to surround them. “We all know it’s the closeted cases who get that desperate for a dick up their ass that they forget to use a condom,” Justin smiled brightly, refusing to show the anger that was simmering just below the surface. He turned to Daphne and took her hand. “Let’s dance.”

The band started to play a watered down version of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer, and Justin winced at the cheesiness of it all. The life and soul of the band was completely absent, it reflected that of the people here, only to mingle with school friends, just so they could brag to each other about how successful they were.

He danced, drank too much and disappeared for cigarettes, the stares, whispers and disgust following him as he went. Having lost Daphne almost half an hour ago Justin moved through the crowd, searching for her curly hair and infectious laugh. 

He found her on the dance floor dancing to a song he vaguely recognised, stepping behind her he pulled her against his crotch, moving in time to the music. She turned in his arms, tipping back her head and laughing. “I love this song.”

“I hate this fucking song.” He grinned and pulled her in tight, finding a rhythm to the somewhat lack lustre song.

“I can do something about that.” A voice whispered in his ear, Justin let go of Daphne and whipped around, heart beating in his mouth as he stared at a well defined chest covered in expensive cotton. 

He stepped back as the band started to play a song he didn’t recognise, he took his time looking over the impressive body covered in an expensive tux, oh so, different from every man here. His eyes lingered over the silk scarf caressing softly tanned skin before following the sculptured line of his jaw, up over his cheekbones before falling into pale hazel eyes.

He suddenly felt nervous, tongue tied, he didn’t know how to respond to this, couldn’t even believe Brian had turned up without him asking. It was a side to Brian he hadn’t seen before, one he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

But deal with it or not, he couldn’t help but be pleased as Brian stood there looking more impressive than he did the first time they met. He was tall, strong and totally comfortable in his own skin. He smiled and pulled Justin against him and it was if a breath of life blew over the band, the singer’s voice caressed them softly, the beat moving in time with them.

And Justin wasn’t nervous anymore.

“What are you doing here?”

He pulled Justin closer, hand on hip, groin to groin and leaned in until his lips touched the shell of Justin’s ear. “I thought we’d give the stuck up little breeders something to salivate over.”

“The breeders aren’t the only ones who’re salivating.” Justin brushed his lips against Brian’s jaw, slight stubble making them tingle. Brian soothed his tender lips with his own, tongue dipping inside the caverns of his mouth, finding out just how true Justin’s words were.

The song ended too quickly, but Justin was on a high and nothing was going to spoil it. Brian let himself get dragged to the dance floor by Daphne, but no one was as interested in them dancing as they had been with Justin and Brian.

Mandy sidled up to Justin, fanning herself slightly. “That was some dance. Not sure if it was appropriate, but I can’t deny it was some dance,” she laughed falsely, “Chris says that you were with that guy when we were at school.”

Justin smirked inwardly, it was nice to know Chris had paid that much attention to him. “On and off.” He walked away, ordering a shot from the bar and downing it quickly. 

Mandy followed him. “He’s a lot older than us.”

“And you should see the size of his cock.” 

She blushed and sighed irritably. “I’m just trying to make conversation. We went to the same school—for a while anyway.”

“Until I dropped out to become a tattooing pole dancer.”

Brian followed him to the bar, Daphne bouncing at his heels, grinning from ear to ear. “That dance was so hot.” 

“That was tame.” Justin said, smirking. She hit him playfully.

“Not our dance, I mean you and Brian.”

“And on that note, I’m leaving. It’s just too much excitement for one night. You coming, Justin?”

Justin looked at Daphne, eyes questioning. She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh go on, I know you’re hating every second of it here, and I bet you two wanna fuck like bunnies. It really is like old times.” She pulled Justin down for a hug and kissed him on the lips. “Call me tomorrow.”

They exited the room quietly, the cool air making Justin shiver. Brian put his silk scarf around his neck, making him laugh softly. “It goes so well with my outfit.” 

“I’d fuck you.” Brian kissed him. “Wait here and I’ll bring the car round.”

He couldn’t stop smiling as he waited for Brian, bouncing slightly from foot to foot, unable to keep still, and it had nothing to do with the cold. He heard the jeep and, his cock hardening at the thought of finally being alone with Brian.

Brian honked his horn, making Justin turn just in time to see a sliver of skin and smooth grain of wood.

The wood and skin blurred together as it descended, Justin only had time to close his eyes before the cool wood crashed into his.


	28. Mechanical Michelangelo

head cracked against the sidewalk as he fell backwards from the blow. His brow throbbed painfully, and blood filled his mouth, metallic and bitter. He spat it out, feeling it dribble against his chin as he tried to get back to his feet.

He was pushed back down again by cruel hands and steel toe capped boots kicked the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping. The sky blurred in front of his eyes and the figure hovered over him, features hazy as he sat on Justin’s chest, trapping his arms at his sides, as the man started to root through his pockets.

Justin started to struggle again, kicking his legs up, trying to knee him in the back and dislodge him before he found the small plastic card in his inner pocket. 

It started to rain as fingers found the lone credit card and pulled it out, holding it towards the sky and laughing. Justin had one last burst of energy, knowing he couldn’t let him get away with that and grabbed for the man’s wrists, trying to get to the card. But he only stood up, laughing harder, pushing Justin away. 

Justin clawed at the man’s jumper, trying to pull him off his feet, but he was weak   
from the blow and his fingers wouldn’t grip properly. 

“You want some of me, huh?” 

Justin knew he’d made a mistake, should have let him run off into the night and away from him. He’d be without Brian’s credit card and he’d ache for a day or two, but it would better than looking into the manic eyes of his attacker. 

He was pushed into a dark alley way and he tried to get away, but he had no strength left, his head throbbed painfully and his ribs jarred with each breath he took.

“You like getting roughed up, don’t ya?”

Justin was afraid to talk, unsure of what he could say to stop the man’s bruising grasp closing his airway as his other hand reached for his pants. He had to stop that hand reaching inside.

“Stop,” he croaked, “take the card and go.” 

But his attacker only laughed and pushed him against the wall again.

“You like blond boy ass?” A strange voice asked. “Then you pay for it. $150 dollars to fuck or $100 for a blow job.”

Bile rose in Justin’s throat and he struggled, hoping the man would let him go, that he could get away from both of them. He’d call Brian, forget his pride, he’d call him and grovel for not setting the alarm on the loft, he’d do all of these things if he could just get away from them.

“You want me to pay, man?” He held on to Justin tightly, one hand still holding onto his jeans. Justin could barely see the other man in the darkness.

“You pay him, just like you pay every other guy on the streets, got it?”

The conversation was surreal, Justin couldn’t believe what he was hearing and when his attacker threw a handful of crumpled notes at the newcomer Justin struggled again.

“Ain’t no use struggling, little man.” He was turned around, cheek pressed against rough brick. 

“Not without a fucking condom.” The stranger threw his attacker a small foil packet and a half used tube of lubrication.

“Not, fucking, at all.” Justin said, twisting half way around, trying to push him away.

“I can take my money back, man, can take this for free and then where will ya’ be, huh? It’s your choice.”

But it wasn’t a choice at all. “The $150 is mine, he doesn’t get a cent.” Justin glared at the newcomer and was surprised as he came over, pressing the damp bills into his hand.

Fingers took their time pushing down his boxers and opening him up. Justin concentrated on the money in his hand and how he would never plead with God, or anyone, ever again to come to his rescue, because pleading didn’t work. No miracle suddenly occurred take him away from this, and as the latex covered cock found his ass he knew he could never call Brian.

The stranger didn’t last long, and it wasn’t so bad, barely even hurt. Not pleasure, nor pain, and minutes later he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Justin to pull up his pants and lean wearily against the wall. 

It was a relief really, because now he had more than just a half full sketch book and a few blunt pencils. He had $150s, whereas before he had none. Money eased guilt and conscience alike.

He felt numb and he almost forgot the other man, flinching when he pulled a tissue from his back pocket and wiped the blood still seeping from Justin’s split lip. “Fuck off.” Justin was so tired, he just wanted to be left alone, to curl up in the nearest doorway and block out the rest of the world. 

“I’m sorry.”

“ Right,” Justin said, his throat sore. “You could have helped me,” Justin spat out, he couldn’t even bare to look at him. He was so angry with this man all of a sudden, angry because he’d opened the doorway to another life, one he didn’t want, had never thought of before and instead of feeling disgusted he felt—safe.

“I did help you.”

“How? By telling him he had to pay me? How fucked up is that? Especially as he’s fucked off with my credit card in his pocket.” The words were coming out of his mouth, but they were empty, just sounds vibrating through the air aimlessly, falling on ears that didn’t believe it anymore than he did.

“He can get cash anywhere, but a credit card means a luxurious, dry place to sleep for a night or too. Easy pickings.”

“Honour among thieves?” Justin said bitterly, moving away slightly as the other man leaned next to him.

“If you like. You just gotta know how to play the game, make it work for you.”

“Make it work for me? How the fuck did that help me?” It put $150 in his pocket, but he didn’t mention that. 

The stranger was suddenly standing in front of Justin, hand gripping his shoulder, face so close to Justin’s he now got a good look at him. Young, though not as young as him, with the eyes of an eighty year old, jaded and tired. The rain had turned his hair to frizz and droplets rolled down his cheeks like false tears. “You make them pay for it before they can take it for free.”

Justin didn’t need to be told he was talking from experience.

“Look, we all meet up in a café around about now, come with me. It’s safe.”

Justin removed the man’s hand once he realised he wasn’t going to get violent. “No thanks, I don’t like your kind of *safe*.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry OK, sorry it had to be like that, but you don’t antagonise guys like him. This way, at least you’re left with something.” He left quickly leaving Justin alone. 

He laughed, slowly opening his palm and looking at the crumpled bills.

His empty pocket lay heavily against his heart as he watched the rain soak into the bills, he was trying to do his best not to panic, and the money helped ease it some, he just didn’t think about what he’d done to get it.

Bile finally resurfaced, spurting up into his throat, burning his mouth as he leaned over and retched, one hand holding the wall and the other holding his sore ribs. Blood and stomach acids flew out of his mouth in thick strings, hanging from his lips, pooling on the cold slabs beneath him.

The fine rain drizzled overhead, seeping into his clothes and settling on his hair, when he stopped heaving he began to shiver, stumbling further into the alley, trying to look for more shelter.

Losing the credit card wasn’t about the money, it never was, it was about Brian using the credit card to find him, how could Brian find him if he wasn’t the one using his card?


	29. Mechanical Michelangelo

Blood stained Brian’s cheeks where he’d rubbed the silent tears away. Blood covered his hands and the scarf he clutched. He couldn’t stand to wash it off, to wash part of Justin away and watch it disappear down the plug hole.

The corridor was almost empty. A TV sat mutely in one corner, something for visitors to do when they weren’t allowed in with the patient. 

That was how Mikey found him and it was the first time he’d ever seen Brian cry. Not when his father used to beat him and not when his father died had he shown so much emotion.

Mikey didn’t know what to say, or how to deal with this. Brian was usually so strong. He hovered slightly in front of him, taking in the horror of all the blood covering his best friend.

Eventually deciding to sit next to him he placed his hand on Brian’s knee. “How is he?” 

Brian closed his eyes and the tears fell into the crease of his mouth and down his chin. “I don’t know.” His voice was rough and cracked in a few places, the way it does when it’s just too hard to speak.

“You should have called me here earlier, I could have helped…” Mikey shook his head then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Brian’s cheek. He didn’t know how he could help with this, but he would try now. Mikey tasted the slight metallic tang of Justin’s blood and resisted the urge to wipe it from his mouth, not wanting Brian to see him do it. 

A man Mikey had never met ran towards them, and he couldn’t help hoping that he was just running past, to some other crisis, but he stopped in front of Brian, jerking him out of his trance, until Brian stood.

Green eyes stared widely at Brian, glistening with tears yet to fall. He pushed at Brian’s shoulders angrily, making Mikey stand suddenly, ready to jump to his defence.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” He pushed Brian again and Mikey moved closer, reaching out, and was unprepared for the change in action as the man, who was obviously Justin’s friend, pulled Brian into his arms and held on tightly.

What shocked Mikey even more was, Brian’s arms slowly curving around his shoulders and holding back.

Mikey felt uncomfortable, as if he should be the one comforting Brian, only he didn’t know how, couldn’t make that last move from a gentle touch to a tight, painful hug that showed he cared more than any words could. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he deserved it, he’d been a bastard to Justin, it was almost as if fate were getting back at him.

“I couldn’t stop it.” Brian’s words were muffled into the stranger’s shoulders.

Mikey hovered behind, feeling somewhat left out, and feeling guilty for feeling left out, this wasn’t about him and he had no right to feel jealous of the contact Brian was showing someone who was little more than stranger. 

“It’s not your fault.” The man whispered back, mouth pressed to Brian’s ear.

The two men sat down, hands still gripping, as if their contact would give Justin strength to fight this. Mikey hoped it helped, couldn’t even understand how so much blood could have come from someone so small. 

Mikey sat down opposite them and he watched them, united in their love for the twink that just wouldn’t go away, even when he did go away he was still there. For the first time he realised Brian had a life outside of their group of friends, he’d always thought it was less than what they had, but it was just as valid, meant just as much to him.

He tried not to think about it as growing apart, just growing up.

“This is Cam.” Brian said softly, breaking the silence, and suddenly Mikey didn’t feel left out anymore.

He gave Cam a sad smile. “Mikey.”

Another man walked down the corridor, steps slow and precise, Mikey looked towards him and knew this was another of Justin’s friends. Tattoos crawled up his arms making him look menacing, but he could see the pallor beneath the bright ink. 

Brian looked up at him and the tears rolled down his cheeks again. “There was so much blood…” He looked down at the scarf clutched in one hand, the blood drying into a dark maroon. 

“Has anyone called his mom?”

Brian shook his head, not taking his eyes away from the scarf.

“Isn’t she called automatically?” Mikey spoke up. He didn’t want the older man to blame Brian for anything.

Cam shook his head. “I’m his emergency contact.” Brian looked towards him, surprised. “Think he wanted his mom finding him if something happened on the streets?”

“Someone should call her. And Brian needs to get a change of clothes.”

“Bren…” Cam started.

“Justin’s mother can’t see him like that…” He pointed towards Brian, face covered in blood that refused to dry because of the tears that kept falling and the white of his tux splattered horrifyingly with Justin’s blood.

“I can’t—” Brian started and looked at Bren, seeing his eyes soften.

“It’s not going to make a difference to his recovery if you wash the blood away, or change into something else.”

Brian closed his eyes and Mikey was shocked at how well the older man seemed to know what Brian was thinking.

“Give this guy your key and he’ll get you a change of clothes.”

Mikey bristled at his words, but understood the need for different clothes, he couldn’t imagine what Jen would go through if she saw Brian, covered in her son’s blood. “I already have a key. I’ll try to get hold of his mom on the way, too.” 

He pressed a kiss to Brian’s mouth and left the hospital, slightly relieved at having something to do. 

***

Mikey came back, running at the heels of Jennifer Taylor.

“Shit, Mikey, you weren’t meant to bring her.” Cam stood up and took the pile of clothes from Mikey’s hand.

“I phoned her after leaving Brian’s loft, she insisted on coming with me.”

“What happened to my son? Where’s the doctor?”

Brian stood, eyes haunted by images of a baseball bat hitting flesh, his lover’s blood warming the cold cement. Jen’s eyes widened as she looked Brian up and down, and she would have stumbled if Bren hadn’t steadied him.

She put a hand to her mouth and sobbed. “What happened? Get me a doctor, I want to see my son!”

Brian licked at his dry lips. “They’re still operating. Something about draining the blood away from his brain.”

Jen sank into a chair, her hands shaking. “Drain blood away? Hasn’t he lost enough already?”

Bren squeezed her shoulder, trying to give her some kind of comfort, she was Justin’s mother after all and Justin loved her. “I’ll go find a doctor to talk to you.”

He came back minutes later with a doctor. “Mrs Taylor?” She stood, looking hopefully at the man who looked too young to be a surgeon.

Brian couldn’t look at them. He stared numbly at the TV until the images flickered into something familiar. His heart missed a beat and he slowly walked over to it, reaching up to turn the volume up.

“I’m sorry sir, that has to stay on mute.” The doctor called over Jen’s shoulders.

Brian didn’t listen, he watched wide eyed as the local news reporter turned and looked directly at him.

“…ictim of a hate crime? Justin Taylor is a minor celebrity among the tattoo circle, both here in Pittsburgh and in New York. After attending a school reunion one of his old classmates, who cannot be named for legal reasons, attacked him with a baseball bat. The ex-hustler who clawed his way from the streets to become a recognised Tattoo Artist is still in a critical condition...”

Blood roared in Brian’s ears, she had to be wrong. She just had to be. He turned to Cam, whose worried look confirmed it for him. “Tell me it’s not true.” He still had to ask, he could be wrong.

Cam shook his head, “how did you think we survived on the streets?”

“What did she mean? Justin hustle? No, he wouldn’t, he would have called me, come home. She’s lying.” Jen’s voice cracked and she let out a sob. “This is all your fault.” She accused Brian, pointing at him. “If you’d left my innocent, seventeen boy alone he wouldn’t be here. He’d be finishing college like the boy who hit him is.”

“If Brian had left him alone that night on Liberty Avenue he’d have probably ended up in more trouble a lot sooner.” Cam spoke up.

“What do you know? This isn’t any of your business.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brian asked Cam, as if Jen’s outburst hadn’t happened.

“It wasn’t my story to tell—and it wasn’t hers,” he nodded towards the TV, “It’s not as if it’s a secret. Everyone who is in the business knows about the hustler turned tattooist, it’s one of the reasons he’s so popular.”

“Stop talking like that! As if being a prostitute is no big deal.” Jen’s voice rose and the receptionist looked over worryingly.

“It’s not, compared to what else could have happened out there it’s quite tame really. Doesn’t tonight tell you that?”


	30. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin dialled his mom’s number with shaking fingers. He couldn’t do this anymore, not now the money had run out and he couldn’t stay in the dive they called a hostel.

He couldn’t do *that* to get money, not again. It wasn’t like he came from a shitty home, he wasn’t abused as a child and he was doing well in school. He didn’t deserve to be on the streets. How fucked up did that sound? He could feel their stares, it was as if they knew he was a country club brat and he had no business being here. He should go back. Back to the lover who never wanted him, the mother who dumped him on the lover who never wanted him and the father who left them all because of the son and his disgusting lifestyle.

He listened to the never ending ring and prayed his mom would pick up. His heart jumped into his throat when he heard that telltale click. Relief washed through his body and he wilted against the cool glass of the booth.

“Taylor residence.”

His pulse started to beat painfully and tears beaded in his eyes, rolling down his cheek. He promised himself that he wouldn’t fall apart, that he’d be brave and not show in the tone of his voice how very afraid he was. “Dad?” His voice cracked, and he forgot all about the arguing, the disappointment. He just wanted his father to come and pick up, tell him it was all a bad dream and to forget it, like he used to.

“Justin, is that you Justin?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He clutched the phone tightly, feeding the slot the rest of his change.

“Where the hell have you been?”

He had forgotten, in the depth of his father’s voice, the slight lilt to his words, that they hadn’t left on good terms, that he would never be the man who took the nightmares away again.

“I’m sorry…Is mom there?” Please let her be there.

“She’s sleeping at the moment.” The sentence was loaded with other meanings and Justin felt his heart break into tiny pieces.

It was OK, he could do this, he could speak to his father and not fall apart, he could agree to whatever terms he wanted, if only he could go home.

“You’re getting on better?” He gave a little cough, clearing his throat as the words got stuck.

“Apart from your disappearance, we’ve been getting along much better. I suppose, we should thank you for bringing us together again.”

Panic settled like ice inside his bones, it calmed him, gave him clarity and the strength to talk to the only man who, he’d once thought, would love him forever. “I’m glad you’re not fighting anymore.”

“Your theatrics are getting tiresome. When you’re here you cause trouble and when you’re not you cause it. We have other people to think about here. Your sister is getting sadly neglected with all your hysterics. When are you coming home, Justin?” 

Come and pick me up, take me in your arms and tell me that monsters don’t lurk in dark corners and then tell me you love me. “I’m not coming home. I phoned to tell mom I’d got a job, that once I’m settled I’ll call and give you my address.” Someone knocked on the glass, making Justin flinch, he turned away, pressing the phone closer to his ear.

“Where are you, Justin? What about school.”

“I’m running out of change for the phone, I’ll call later with details, give mom and Molly my love.” He placed the receiver into the cradle with a bang, his hand was shaking. He wiped away his tears until his cheeks were dry and his eyes burned. 

He stepped out of the phone booth and took out his sketch book, looking at old drawings of his dad, of his mom, sister and Brian, then of later drawings, the tourists of New York, landmarks he was sure would make him enough money to stay in the hostel an extra night.

Raindrops fell on the pages, blurring pencil lines and buckling the paper. They were just marks on a page, meaningless in value and personally, no wonder no one wanted to part with their money for them.

He stopped next to an overfilled bin, pulling pencils out of his pocket he threw them on top, and with one last look at a blurred picture of his father, he shoved the sketchbook deep into the garbage.

He wondered through the streets for a while, not wanting to stay in one place for too long. The rain soaked through his jacket until he was painfully numb. There had to be a way he could make this work. It was time he did things on his own and didn’t rely on people. It was unfair to be such a burden to Brian, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that it couldn’t work, not in the long term. He had thought he’d always end up back with his mom, once she’d gotten used to his life style, but that wasn’t an option any longer either.

It wasn’t such a big deal. Hundreds of people did it every day. He could take care of himself, he’d make a new life for himself, let karma attack him at full force for the stress he’d put on every one.

Maybe it was what he’d deserved. 

He believed in fate, everything happened for a reason. He frowned inwardly, or maybe it was karma he believed in. What goes around comes around. He’d taken his filthy lifestyle away from his parents and they were finally getting their act together.

He’d refused to give up his filthy lifestyle and now it might be the only thing that would save him.

He stopped walking, looking up at an old building, more windows boarded up than not. He could make out a sign saying Night Stop Café and he peered through the grimy windows, towards a table of young boys leaning into the centre, littered coffee cups and empty crisp packets all around them.

It was a pathetic sight, but it looked safe, and warm. It was a million miles away from his old life and that was how he wanted it now.

He pushed on the door, the bell tinkling weakly above him.

Everyone stopped talking and looked at him, he was rooted to the spot and not even the warmth was enough to keep him there. He stepped closer the door again, intent of getting out of there when one of them stood up, chair scraping back. This was a bad idea. They didn’t look safe at all anymore, they looked—hopeless, sad and dejected, they looked at him like he was little more than a piece of meat.

“No, wait.” His build seemed vaguely familiar, the voice sending shivers down his spine. But Justin didn’t recognise him in the brightly lit diner. His hair fell messily around his face and he was only a little bigger than Justin in size. He had a dimple in one corner of his mouth when he smiled and Justin wondered what the hell he had to smile about.

“Don’t go. You’re the guy from the other night. I’ll get you a coffee, my treat.” Justin stood mutely, not responding at all. This guy was barely older than he was, his skin was smooth, hair natural and body toned, yet Justin could see the harsh realities life had brought him and he couldn’t be mad for his intervention that night.

“Don’t you think there’s enough competition as there is?” Someone said and Justin wasn’t quite sure what he meant, he only knew he felt resigned to this.

“Nah, new faces help keep the regulars regular, man.”

“I’m Cam.” Cam placed a steaming cup of coffee in Justin’s hands, ignoring the conversation going on around them. His eyes were friendly, apologetic and dead. “I’m sorry about the other night—“

Justin shut his eyes, blanked out that night. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. People do what they have to do.”

Cam nodded, a half smile gracing his face, giving his expression a little life. “Ain’t that the truth?”

Cam pushed Justin towards the group of boys, made room for him and sat him down. Justin knew there would be a price for their kindness, but it was a price he’d rather pay than the alternative.


	31. Mechanical Michelangelo

Cameron sat on the concrete step at one of the back entrances to the hospital, hiding from the trickle of media that just wouldn’t go away, those select few who just had to have a statement from Justin’s hustler friend and big shot tattoo artist, Bren McKay. 

Cigarette butts littered the ground around his feet and a half smoked cigarette rested between fingers that wouldn’t seem to stop shaking.

He flipped open his phone and turned it on, ringing Leon and waiting for the other man to answer. “Where are you, man?” He needed his family around him, needed the strength of the group, he’d not felt this alone since he’d met Justin three years before.

“About ten minutes away if I don’t get lost. Your car is a heap of junk, man. Don’t know how it’s got us this far.”

Cam laughed softly. “Just make sure it gets you this far. Hurry up, I’ll meet you out front.”

“See you in ten.”

He shoved the phone back in his pocket and finished his smoke before walking back inside, ready to face the glares of Jennifer. She didn’t want him or Bren there, but they weren’t leaving. She didn’t understand that they’d practically lived in each others pockets for the past three years, that they were closer than family.

She wouldn’t like it when Leon and Pete got there either, but Justin needed them, he needed them to be there and that’s where they wanted to be. It didn’t matter that they would be losing money, they wanted to be here for Justin, for their family.

Bren sat silently, drawing in the small sketch book that never left his side, and Cam felt his heart ache. It was wrong to see just one of them sketching. 

“Look, I’m really grateful that you guys came here, but his family is here now. Craig is coming down later and we’re going to talk about insurance and hospital bills. It’d be better if you weren’t here.” Jen said, finally stopping her pacing to face them.

Cameron tensed, saw the pencil pause on Bren’s page. “And why would you worry about insurance now, when he has a successful, fulltime job and has ample coverage?” Bren’s voice was deep, calm and deadly. “He’s not a seventeen year old boy that needs help anymore.” 

Jen frowned, knowing she’d been insulted but not quite sure how. “He’s a twenty one year old man that needs medical attention and the support of his family.”

“You might think that Mechanical Michelangelo is some back town dump that pays a pittance and probably uses dirty needles, but if you’d ever bothered to come over when Justin asked you, you’d find we are one of the top tattoo salons, with waiting lists over three months long. Tattooing can be a risky business, all my employees get insurance, there is no need to worry about his medical needs.”

“You didn’t worry three years ago, didn’t it keep you awake at night, wondering what had happened to him, how he was supporting himself?” Cam raised an eyebrow and shook his head, unable to keep quiet.

He hated Jennifer more than he hated his own mother, at least she made no pretence about loving him, she was straight with him from the word go, whereas Jennifer sent so many mixed signals Justin didn’t know which way to turn most of the time.

“I have to go meet the guys.” Cam stood and smiled half heartedly at Bren.

“Who?” Jennifer asked.

“Our friends.” He looked pointedly at her and she gulped, knowing by friends he meant fellow hustlers.

Jennifer clutched onto his arm as he walked past. “They won’t talk about Justin’s—past will they?”

He shrugged her off, looking down at her with disdain. “No, but they might want to punch whoever gets in their way. It might not be the right way to deal with it, but it’s because they care. Justin is one of us, and we’re family.”

He walked out of the hospital and spotted Leon, behind the wheel of his car, face like thunder as a reporter tried to corner him.

Cam was glad he’d told Leon he’d meet them outside. It didn’t matter about hospital policy or security; at least one reporter had to stay and try to catch them long enough to give a statement. 

He watched Leon and Pete exit his old car, and another three men fall out the back. Tears of relief filled his eyes as he saw them, then anger settled in as the reporter jumped at them.

Cam reached them first and pushed the microphone away. “Fuck off.”

“Did you hustle with Justin? Please, just say a few words!”

“Has he been there all night, dude? Man, I can show you a much better way to make money.” Leon clutched his crotched, laughed at the man’s expression then allowed Cam to lead them away.

Once they were in the privacy of the hospital Leon’s bravado disappeared and in its place was a young man who was very worried for his friend.

“How is he?” Pete asked, jogging behind to keep up with them.

Cam took a deep shaky breath and related what the doctor had told them. “They drained the blood, but he’s in a coma. They say it’s his body’s way of coping with the trauma.”

“When will he wake up?”

“They don’t know. Today, tomorrow, next month, next year…” ‘Never’ went unspoken, but not unheard.

“He’ll be alright though, when he wakes up?” Pete asked, wanting it to be true, hell they all wanted it to be true.

Jennifer was sitting next to Bren when they all arrived, she looked up and did a double take, eyes widening, pale skin becoming paler and disgust evident on her face. Cam could hardly blame her for that. Out of the familiar streets they called home they looked like ducks out of water.

Men, little more than boys really, at least when they started out, hovered around, all dressed in denim and cotton that clung to lean frames, and although Cam could see the worry etched into every line and every restless stance, he was sure all Jen could see were cocky prostitutes intent on making money while they were at her child’s bedside.

“Err, thank you for coming.” Jennifer said to them, not forgetting her manners. “But really, this isn’t a hotel, you should come back visiting hours and I’ll update you.”

Bren put a hand on her shoulder. “It is visiting hours.”

Cameron bit his lip, resisting the urge to tell her that it was him who should stay with Justin, like it had been him who’d been there every night since they’d met.

“Look, we don’t want to cause trouble, we just want to see him,” Leon said, “He’s our friend…and we’ve come a long way.”

A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and she wiped it away on her sleeve. “Alright. They’re doing more tests right now…but when he’s back. And I need to go fetch Molly, make sure she’s got enough things for tonight.” She frowned, having trouble concentrating on all the things she had to do.

Michael, of all people turned up, standing next to Jennifer and offering his support. He had a tub of what looked like homemade pasta in one hand. “Mom made this for you, she said to eat it all up and save your strength for Sunshine. I’ll stay here while you’re taking care of Molly and we’ll phone you if there’s any change.” Mikey said.

When Jen left everyone relaxed somewhat, Leon slumped into a chair, Pete close to him, both with identical expressions of worry on their face. They ignored Mikey as he sat a little away from them.

 

“He’s been on the news back home too.” Pete commented, breaking the silence. “They’re saying some dick hit him with a baseball bat, is it true?”

Cam closed his eyes, shuddering, unable to picture it in his mind, but knowing it had happened. He’d seen Brian covered in the aftermath of the accident, he’d held Justin’s hand as he slept a deep, unnatural sleep. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Where is he? The fucker that did it to him?”

“In custody for now.”

“Shame.” 

Cameron knew what Leon meant, he too wanted to hunt Chris Hobbs down and beat out his own kind of revenge. Beat him like he’d beat Justin…Chris Hobbs was lucky, because he was safe from Justin’s friends where he was, if he’d been let out already there would be no hope for him.


	32. Mechanical Michelangelo

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!

* * *

Justin hadn’t noticed the pale yellow flecks in Cam’s green eyes before. They were standing so close to each other, too close, and he could see the unique swirls of greens and flecks of yellows that made up Cameron’s beautiful gaze. He swayed closer to the other man, hands clutching at his jacket. 

His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. Leaning forward, he touched his lips to Cam’s ear whispered, “I don’t think I can do this.” 

Cam leaned into him, pressing his lower body into Justin’s, holding him in a pseudo lover’s embrace. “It’ll be easy, we can do this.” Justin wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“Less love and more fucking,” the man sitting in the corner of the room said.

Justin had almost forgotten him in his nervousness. 

Both men looked over at the man sitting on an old chair, pants unzipped and flaccid cock in hand. His eyes were masked in shadow, but Justin could practically see the lust radiating from them, he also saw the slow hand movement and how the sight of them, or the feel of his own hand, didn’t bring him to erection.

Justin pushed the denim over Cam’s shoulders with shaking hands, throwing the jacket onto the floor. He smoothed the material over Cam’s shoulders, patting them slightly and then frowned. He wasn’t sure what to do next.

Seeing his hesitation, Cam took charge, he was the expert after all. He pulled Justin out of his t-shirt, slowly revealing his pale skin inch by inch. He threw the t-shirt at the old man and trailed his fingers over Justin’s chest.

The man gasped as the shirt landed on his leg and his hand quickened. Maybe, if he got off soon, they wouldn’t have to go all the way and they wouldn’t have to fuck.

You don’t fuck your friends, that’s what Brian had always said, and even though it was for money, the easiest money they’d probably ever make, Justin couldn’t help but feel it was wrong. 

Cameron was a beautiful man, a few inches taller than him, light brown hair that seemed to fall in messy waves around his shoulders and a body only slightly tired from the harsh life he’d led.

Under other circumstances, like the back room of Babylon, or the toilet in Woody’s, Justin wouldn’t have any worries about fucking him. But this was different, they were already friends and work colleagues, if you could call it that, and as a result his cock lay as soft as their one man audiences.

He had thought he was getting the hang of hustling, he had sold his ass enough times that he didn’t feel disgusted with himself, just relieved to have money in his back pocket. But Cam wasn’t a trick and he would be around for a long time to come.

He was an emotional tower of strength, even though he was as fucked up, if not more so, than Justin was, and Justin could admire his beauty, he knew why people found him attractive, but that beauty wasn’t doing anything for him. It wasn’t what he saw when he looked at him, he saw a friend, the man who saved him.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He picked up one of Justin’s hands and placed it on his own chest, still covered by well worn cotton. “Don’t think, just feel. Feel my muscles ripple under your touch. Feel the heat of my skin as your fingers ride under my t-shirt.” He navigated Justin’s hand under the fabric, letting go as the blond flexed his fingers and started to explore by himself. “Just get lost in the sensation. We’re in the back room of your Babylon, the music is hot, but not as hot as the guy you picked to fuck that night.”

Justin groaned, his cock finally stirring to life, if somewhat half heartedly. 

“Hurry the fuck up and take your clothes off,” the trick grunted. 

Cameron smiled at Justin, leaned down and gave him a friendly kiss before pushing down his own jeans and stepping out of them, showing his perfectly rounded ass to the old man before kneeling down in front of Justin.

Justin looked down into Cam’s friendly eyes, still worried about this. “We’ll be OK, Justin, just take this for what it is. An easy night and a warm bed.” He closed his blue eyes and gave a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Just feel. This isn’t you or me, we’re whoever we want to be, away from this place, away from the cold. Feel the heat.” 

Justin felt himself grow with Cam’s words, felt his own life float away and let himself fall into a make believe world. When Cam eased his jeans over his thighs his dick was hard. Cam licked the slight sprinkle of hair from Justin’s belly button to the base of his cock. He heard the trick gasp as his erection sprang free and Justin felt the first mouth on his cock since Brian’s. He bit back a moan and steadied himself using Cam’s shoulder.

“Lets get ready to give him the fucking time of his life,” Cam whispered before sucking the head of Justin’s penis into his mouth, then taking him inch by inch inside the moist cavern of his mouth.

Justin felt his cock touch the back of Cam’s throat and he didn’t have to force a gasp when the talented hustler swallowed around him. He grasped fistfuls of hair, trying to over exaggerate his movements, tried to pretend he was in a porn movie and the angle had to be just right, the over acting larger than life, but not too large. It had to be realistic, and it was.

“Do him without a condom and I’ll give you an extra hundred.”

Justin opened his eyes and Cameron removed his mouth from around Justin’s cock, leaving it glistening with saliva, he wiped the spit from his chin and looked over his shoulder at the man watching them. “We don’t fuck without condoms.” They said simultaneously.

“An extra two hundred.” 

Cameron got to his feet and reached for his clothes. “If you wanted it raw you went to the wrong district. He started to slip back into his jeans.

“No, no, don’t stop, I just…carry on. Had to try, you know.”

Cam nodded and turned to Justin, seeing his already deflating cock he tried a different tactic, he pressed their naked bodies close, kissing Justin deeply, using tongue, and dipping him over the bed.

The trick never had to see Justin’s lack of desire. As long as one of them had a hard dick it didn’t matter.

 

Justin’s ass was sore, but he was content, for the night anyway. The trick had left, leaving them to lounge in the room until morning. The bed was lumpy and the sheets were itchy. It was bliss.

He lay smoking a cigarette, sharing it with Cam, their legs tangled together from their earlier foray and sheets riding low in their hips now.

The weather was kept at bay for one night.  
“I’m sorry,” Cam said.

“Sorry’s bullshit,” Justin replied, pushing smoke out through his nose.

“I seem to be making you do a lot of things you don’t like, all for a few extra bucks.”

Justin turned, leaning on one elbow over him and traced the worry lines on his forehead. “You’re teaching me how to survive. You saved me that first night, don’t ever think it was anything different.”

“And tonight?”

“You’re showing me some tricks to the trade. Short cuts in making easy money and a roof over our head, I just didn’t want anything to be awkward between us.”

“And are you feeling awkward?”

Justin shook his head. “I’m relieved we had an easy night and made more money than we usually do.” He lay back down next to Cam, facing him, taking the cigarette from him and taking a long drag. “How long have you been doing this?”

Cam frowned and turned to face Justin. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”

“What should I ask then?”

“How long have I been doing this since people started to pay me.”

Justin’s stomach churned, “I shouldn’t have bought it up.”

“It’s OK, I don’t mind talking about it. I’ve been hustling since I was fifteen.”

Justin played idly with the other man’s hair, running it through his fingers. “Do you like it?”

Cameron laughed and pulled Justin closer, in a friendly hug. “I’m not sure if anyone actually likes it.”

“Are you straight?”

“What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?”

“Sorry, it’s just, we never usually get the chance to talk alone.”

Cameron didn’t answer for a long time, they lay in a tangle of limbs, Justin playing with Cam’s hair. “I’m not straight, I’m not gay, I’m not anything.”

“What do you mean?” Justin was confused.

“I’m as asexual as they come baby. Maybe it’s because my stepdad liked to fuck me, maybe it’s because I get fucked so often it loses its appeal.”

“I don’t get how you can do this then.”

“It’s all I know how to do. I can get an erection on will, I can open my legs for anyone, and I do, as long as there’s payment involved.”

“I’d like to think I’ll meet someone one day, and that my hustling won’t put either of us off.”

“I’d like to be alone one day. I’d like to never be touched again.”

Guilt washed over Justin, he felt like he’d taken advantage of Cameron, but how could he know how the other man felt? He would never have guessed. Cameron had always seemed so sexual, so sure of his own body and what it could do to others.

“Stop it.” Cameron warned.

“What?”

“Feeling guilty. You didn’t take advantage, I didn’t hate your touch and I don’t feel disgusted holding you. I just, one day, I’d like to give this up and do something else and finally have the rights back to my body.”

Justin pulled him into a tender hug, tears burning the back of his eyelids. “We’ll do it, both of us. We’ll work our asses off until we don’t have to work them anymore.”


	33. Mechanical Michelangelo

The waiting room became a drop in centre for lost boys and anyone who was anyone as long as they had cared for Justin. People came and went, leaving cards, and words of sympathy.

Daphne brought a bag full of chips and fizzy drinks with her, she’d spent enough time in New York to know what Justin’s friends liked, and everyone needed a little comfort food now and then.

Seeing Leon she bent down and pressed a kiss to his head, seeing them all here made her heart swell and the tears filled in her eyes. He was so lucky to have friends like these.

She handed the snacks around, hesitating when she got to Bren. Upon seeing his face she let out a sob and he stood up, taking her shaking form into his arms. “It’s all my fault, Bren.”

“Bullshit,” he murmured, “You weren’t to know.”

“But if I hadn’t made him go to the stupid reunion…” Why did she have to bully him into going? He had hated school when he was there, getting bullied nearly every day, and she’d made him relive it at the reunion, only this was worse, so much worse than she could ever have imagined.

“You didn’t make him do anything, no one can make Justin do anything.”

But she could, he had a weak spot when it came to her and she knew how to twist him around her finger. “God, I hate this, I want to stay here with you guys, but I have exams…” How could she think about exams when Justin was fighting for his life?

“Which you need to pass, Justin will be pissed at you if you flunk them for him.”

“You’ll ring me if anything happens? I’ll come back here straight after it.” 

“Of course I will.” Bren wiped away her tears and past her over to Cam, who hugged her like she was the last connection to Justin. Apart from him, she knew Justin better than anyone.

“Be strong,” she whispered into his ear.

“You too.”

They ate in silence, each sharing out the different flavours of chips and crunching slowly. Cam ate, but tasted nothing. He looked over at Mikey and frowned, suddenly realising Brian hadn’t returned with him.

“Where’s Brian?”

Mikey blinked, realising Cam was talking to him. “Huh?”

“Where’s Brian?”

“Oh, he stayed home, to shower. I’m sure he’ll be coming later.” He said it in such a way Cam was certain that he was talking bullshit.

“Hey, Cam, where are you guys staying?” Leon asked through a mouthful of crisps. 

Cam frowned, realising neither he nor Bren had thought about accommodation while they’d been here. “We stayed here. It was touch and go for a while—we didn’t want to be too far away.” He shook his head, not wanting to think about it. 

“I don’t think they’ll let us all stay here…they’re giving us the evils as it is.” Leon glared at a nurse as she walked past. “We’ll just head on out when they kick us out, I suppose."

“No, not on the streets tonight.” They deserved warmth tonight, after driving for hours to get here, he didn’t want them out on strange streets, vulnerable and sad. He didn’t want anything to happen to them too. Cam looked pointedly at Mikey, who shook his head vehemently.

“One ex hustler is enough thank you, I’m not opening my door to five more.”

“Alright. Where *is* Brian?” Cam demanded, not wanting any more of Mikey’s half truths. 

“He won’t let them stay at the loft.”

“I didn’t ask that, Mikey. Where is he? I haven’t seen him since Justin came out of theatre.”

“He’s taking this pretty hard and he hates hospitals.”

“Mikey…”

Mikey sighed, knowing when he was defeated. “He’s at Babylon.”

Cam laughed, but it was void of any emotion. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I tried to get him to come here…Don’t be too mad at him, this is his own type of pain management.”

“Directions.” 

“Huh?” Mikey looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Directions to, fucking, Babylon.”

“I’ll come too; he needs someone to defend him.”

***

Cam was on a mission, he twisted in between the crowd, eyes scanning the men, looking for a tall brunette, whose idea of pain management was bad sex in a spunk covered club.

Mikey clutched onto his arm, dragging him to the bar, Cam had to work hard not to shrug the other man off, finding his touch distasteful. “We’ll probably find him at the bar.” They looked up and down the rows of men waiting to get served and didn’t see him.

“We should just wait here.” 

Cam raised his eyebrow at Mikey, not believing a word he said. He leaned over the bar to get the barman’s attention, and instead of ordering a drink or coming onto him like the barman expected he shouted one word. “Kinney?” 

The barman rolled his eyes. “Back room.”

Anger boiled in his veins, how could Brian do this? Didn’t he care at all? He made his way to what could only be the back room, Mikey chasing his heels. Chains hung from the ceiling above the doorway, clinking in time with the music, and men were sucking and fucking in every corner.

It didn’t take long to find Brian, the only man with most of his clothes still on, was getting his dick sucked. His head was thrown back, and his eyes were shut, he didn’t look like he was having much of a good time, and Cameron couldn’t blame him.

He found this whole thing distasteful, and to find Brian here, as Justin lay in a hospital bed, made him want to punch him until he was the one lying bleeding on the ground.

Cam nudged the man on his knees, “Fuck off,” he shouted, alerting Brian to his presence. When the man didn’t move Cam pulled on his hair, causing Brian to slide back, quickly removing his dick from between the stranger’s teeth.

“Watch it!”

“What the fuck, are you doing here, Brian?”

He laughed and leaned his head back against the wall as he tucked himself back into his pants. “What does it look like? Getting my dick sucked.”

“Cut the bullshit. I’m not part of your adoring fan club, you don’t need to impress me with your big bad ways. Justin needs you.”

“Guys, lets not fight.” Mikey said, frustrated when they ignored him.

“He doesn’t even know I’m there. There’s nothing I can do.”

“There’s nothing I can do either. I can’t fix this, I can’t make him wake up or turn back time, but I’m there and when he does wake up, and he will, he’ll know I was there, that Bren was there, that Leon, Pete and all of our fucked up, twisted, prostituting family were there.”

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, running a hand over his face. “Why didn’t he just come back? Why did he do that?”

Cameron pulled Brian’s hands away from his face. “Because he felt like he didn’t have a choice, and hustling is better than other things that can happen…fuck, you can have this conversation with Justin when he’s better. Stop being a fucking dick and come back to the hospital.”

Brian shrugged the shorter man off. “There’s no reason for me to be there.”

“You keep telling yourself that, and it’ll be the second thing you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah? And what’s the first?” 

“Not bothering to find Justin in the first place.”


	34. Mechanical Michelangelo

Sorry for the long gap before updating, I went on holiday and didn't have a chance to warn you guys! 

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed...and fic of the month! 'tis a great honour! and thank you all:-)

* * *

The wind had teeth that night, and even the hustlers had given up loitering on the cold streets. They sat huddled beneath a bridge, cheap alcohol and weed making its way around frosted fingers and chapped lips.

“We could be sitting in the café if Leon hadn’t decided to snort coke in the bathroom.” Cam jabbed the side of Leon’s leg with his foot and took a cigarette out of a random hand. 

Lean smirked, frosty air billowing from his nose. “And she only threw me out because I used the ladies.”

“What self respecting hustler uses the ladies?” Justin shivered as the wind whistled under the tunnel and snuggled down into his coat, leaning his chin on Cam’s shoulder.

“One that can’t wait for the mens to be free,” Leon took a swig of vodka and threw the empty bottle to the ground, listening as it clanked against the cold stone.

“Fuck, we’re gonna make no money tonight.”

Justin nodded at the comment, but couldn’t bring himself to care, it was too cold to stand bare ass while someone got their kicks.

He wondered what he would be doing if he were in the Pitts. Would he be at home with his mother, working at the diner or fucking Brian at the loft? Would Brian be surprised at the amount of action his ass had seen of late? 

Probably not, what would surprise him were the crumpled, moist bills he received before he lowered his pants. He couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed anymore. Thinking of Brian made the hole where his heart should have been, ache, but he didn’t feel sad, or disgusted and he’d stopped worrying what Brian would think after the fourth week, fourteenth tear, the fortieth cock; it wasn’t as if Brian was coming to get him. He was probably spending the night at Babylon, dancing with Mikey and fucking a faceless trick in the back room.

“You got any batteries?” Justin blinked as he was nudged.

“Huh?”

“You got any batteries on you?”

“Euw no, I don’t wanna know why you want batteries, man, don’t you spend enough time with things shoved up your ass?”

Ashley laughed and gave Justin the finger. “My walkman gave out.”

Walkman, Justin almost laughed at the thought, they seemed so old fashioned to him, but to most of the guys here technological advances meant nothing. 

What did mean something was, a warm cup of coffee, a dry place to sleep and drugs to take the pain of living away.

“Here, try these.” Cameron threw a small flashlight at Ashley, who caught it in one hand and unscrewed the bottom, taking out the batteries. 

“Thanks, man.” He took out the walkman, an old bulky contraption covered in scratches and held together with tape. Justin frowned as he watched, still leaning against Cam’s shoulder. Something looked strange, and it wasn’t to do with the age of it. 

Ashley turned it on, but Justin didn’t hear the muffled sound of music, but an electric buzz. “What are you doing?” He leaned forward, squinting to see just what Ashley had attached to the walkman, whatever it was, it wasn’t earphones. 

“Perfect man.” He held a pen in his hand and Justin saw it was attached to the walkman, the others seemed to know what was happening but Justin hadn’t been graced with this show yet. He watched as Ashley opened an ink cartridge and dipped the nib into it.

Ink vibrated from the nib, splattering against his coat, adding to the dirt and grime of street living. “What are you doing?” Justin couldn’t resist asking.

“What’s it look like? Making art.” He touched the point of his pen against his bare arm, coat pushed up to his elbow revealing skin already black with ink.

Justin saw the ink touch the skin, leaving behind a thick black line, Ashley didn’t seem to have a pattern in mind, he just swirled the pen, making patterns.

“It’s a self made tattoo gun,” Cam told Justin, watching as Ashley marked himself without so much as a flinch.

Justin watched, fascinated, his interest in art sparking to life again. He hadn’t felt the need to pick up a pencil since the fateful phone call with his father.

“You want one?” Ashley looked at Justin, his eyes black pools in the darkness of the night. 

“Hell no, you can’t draw for shit.”

Ashley raised his eyebrow. “It’s about expression, feelings.”

“But you could at least do a halfway decent design.”

“Like what?”

“Anyone got any paper?” 

Leon leaned over and picked up a flier off the floor. Justin took his little finger and dipped it into the ink Ashley was using, and drew a crude tribal design. It was slightly blurred and not as crisp as he would like, but it had potential. 

“That’s good man.” 

Justin shrugged, it didn’t matter if it was good or not, his art hadn’t gotten him anything but trouble.

“Maybe you could design something for me.” He nodded, it wasn’t like he had to have inspiration or love to design a simple line drawing.

“Hey, do you think if we pool our money tonight we could get a motel room?” Leon asked, shivering as rain started to ride into the tunnel on the back of the bitter wind.

“If we tried to save up some of our money we might be able to get enough together for a deposit on an apartment,” Justin said, longing for a roof to shut out the cruel weather and crueller men. 

Leon laughed and lit up another cigarette. “Yeah right.” It was if they were resigned to life on the streets, Justin should get used to it, should resign himself to this way of life. Everyone said once you got into this way of life there was no way out.

“An apartment would be nice,” Cam admitted wistfully, “Somewhere we could be alone.” Where no one would touch them.

“Somewhere we wouldn’t get rained on.” Somewhere safe from life.

“A place away from the tricks.” Away from sex all together. 

Justin leaned further into Cam, showing him without words he understood.

Headlights suddenly blinded them and their chatter drifted away, Justin put his hand up, blocking out the harsh light and saw a middle age man get out of the car. It seemed some men wouldn’t let harsh weather conditions stop them from getting their dick sucked.

“Justin’s regular is here,” Leon chanted in a singsong voice as Justin stood unsteadily, weed and alcohol going to his head.

“Where is my tie?” His old St James school tie was thrown in his direction and he caught in on one finger, haphazardly putting it around his neck and the collar of his jacket as he sauntered over the car.

It was funny really, that one thing he still had out of the backpack he’d left home with, was a school tie, an important part of the Academy’s school uniform, it gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction as he watched a trick go wild as he put it on, hold it in his hands as he was fucked from behind. Forever the school boy, but without the school.


	35. Mechanical Michelangelo

“Cam?” Brian pulled his hand away from Justin’s limp fingers as if he’d been burned. He stumbled backwards and tried to shut down his aching heart as Justin called another name. 

It didn’t matter, he was awake.

“I’ll get him.” Brian’s mouth felt dry, and his heart was beating painfully fast. If Justin needed Cam right now, he would get Cam and be happy about it.

“Brian?” his voice was husky and slurred, his eyes wincing as he tried to focus. The nurses seemed to appear out of nowhere and he let himself get steered away from the bed, his body numb. 

He thought it was a figment of his imagination when he heard a voice asking him to stay.

The clinical whiteness of the corridors made Brian blink, for once the hard plastic chairs were empty of tattoo artists, of hustlers and of his fucked up family.

He was glad, he didn’t want them to see him like this, see him without his defences, feeling lost and completely out of his depth. His friends had never seen him without the façade firmly in place, and he didn’t want them too, didn’t want the feelings that would come with being so open with them.

He should grab a nurse, ask what was happening, if he was OK, but he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to work. He kept replaying the worst night of his life over and over. He saw the smoothed wood strike, could hear the crack of skull and thud as Justin’s body hit the cement.

Justin was awake now though, and he’d spoken, knew who Cam was at least. He must be alright. Brian walked out of the hospital, turning on his cell phone and calling the loft. Cameron picked up and Brian closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the burning tears as he heard the other man’s voice.

“Hello? Hello? Brian Kinney’s residence.”

Brian swallowed repeatedly, licking his lips and clearing his throat before he was able to speak. “He woke up.”

“Justin woke up?” Cameron didn’t need to ask who was on the other line.

“Yeah, the doctors are with him now. Get here quickly, he asked for you.” Brian ended the call and walked back inside, feeling like a ghost, like he wasn’t quite there, just watching his body move around from above.

He sat in the corridor, the crack of skull, thud of body and Justin’s husky voice asking for his best friend racing through his mind. This should be a happy time, yet he’d never felt so nervous, so conflicted. 

Brian was leaning forward, elbows resting on knees and head stooped forward as Cam arrived. “Brian,” he called as he saw him, jogging the distance between them until he was in front of the other man.

“You look like shit, what’s wrong, is he OK?”

“He called your name.” Cam frowned, puzzled. Brian looked up and leaned back in the chair. “I held his hand and it was your name he called.” It suddenly seemed the most important thing in the world, Justin calling for Cam and not him. And why would he? He’d left Justin in New York, not bothered to find him and Cam had been there for him, held him through the harsh times, why would Justin want him?

“What the hell does it matter, did you speak to the doctor yet?”

Brian shook his head. “I’m not his emergency contact.” The barb flew from his mouth before he had time to think, he knew this wasn’t the time for this conversation. Justin had woken up, actually woken up and spoken after two weeks of nothing and all he could think about was, he wasn’t the first thought in Justin’s mind.

“Don’t do this Brian, don’t be a fucking asshole when he needs you. Now, I’m going to find a doctor, don’t you dare leave the hospital, you got it.” Cam pushed his shoulders, trying to shake an answer from him. “You got it? If you hurt Justin with your attitude you have me to deal with. We have about fifteen minutes before the guys get here, pull yourself together.”

Cam walked away, stilling slightly as Brian called after him, “Did you sleep with him?” With a shake of the head he carried on walking. 

Brian let out a deep breathe and thought of all the ways he didn’t know Justin anymore. Maybe it was a mistake getting so close again, he erected walls for a reason, so no one could hurt him, because the moment you let someone get close, someone will take a bat to it and ruin it.

The hustlers arrived first, sitting down around him without acknowledgement, he was glad of that, he didn’t want to be involved in their idle chatter and nervous movements. They couldn’t seem to keep still, fidgeting and pacing as they waited for news of Justin.

“How close are Justin and Cam?” Brian asked, breaking his silence, deciding to get information from those closest to the two best friends before anyone else interrupted. 

“They’re pretty tight,” Leon answered.

“How tight?”

“Closer than brothers, man,” Paul added.

“Right,” Brian drawled out, he could imagine how close that could be. “Do they fuck?” 

Leon looked surprised and a laugh bubbled up from the back of his throat. “Not anymore.”

“So they did?” Brian knew how completely pathetic he sounded, but the usual barriers he had with his friends weren’t there, and for some reason, he needed to know.

“If a buck or two was involved, yeah.” Leon shrugged, not understanding why this was important to the other man.

Bren arrived with Jennifer, Molly and Daphne, and Brian bit his tongue, annoyed at being interrupted. He needed to know about Justin’s past, he needed to know what he was letting himself in for and if he was strong enough for it, or if he should walk away now, let Cameron deal with it, he seemed good at doing that.

Brian was angry at himself, he rarely let himself fall to pieces, the last time he recalled was after his father told him he was dying. He didn’t know why he’d let Cam talk him into coming back that night at Babylon, Justin didn’t need him and he wasn’t nurse material. He wouldn’t know how to help Justin through this.

He wanted a drink desperately.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to the people around him. In the deep, dark and disturbing caverns of his brain he heard Justin’s laughter, the whoosh of wind as the bat sailed through it, the crack as wood connected with skull and the bang as body crumpled to the floor. 

He didn’t think he would ever stop hearing that.


	36. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin lay in bed, Cameron sitting cross legged on the end. It was almost like old times. It could be them in their apartment after they’d first moved in, still needing the comfort of each other’s presence to get them through the night.

It could be all of those things, except for the led weight of his right arm and the pounding that drummed a constant beat deep down into his brain.

He tried to move his fingers, in his mind they were curling into a fist, his fingernails were digging into his palm making little half moons, but in reality his hand did little more than twitch. He kept his sight locked firmly on Cam, if he looked down he would know how bad it was, he would know that the arm that used to create art was useless.  
Unfortunately there was something to take his mind off his useless arm and excruciating headache. He winced, the white walls suddenly seeming too bright. He wished he could slip back into oblivion; he didn’t want to see the look in Brian’s eyes now he knew he’d sold his ass on the streets of New York.

“I don’t think he’ll judge you.”

Justin licked his cracked lips. “I didn’t want him to find out like that. I didn’t want him to find out at all.”

“You think he wouldn’t have found out eventually? A little digging and he’d know all about the hustler that made it big. It’s a story all the hustlers love to tell, it gives them hope of a better future, it’s not something you could hide forever.”

“What did my mother say?”

Cameron shrugged. “You know Jen, she’s in the land of denial. She’s waiting for us all to burst out laughing and say ‘fooled you!’”

Justin groaned, glad he’d been drugged to the hills when his mother had visited with him. He hadn’t been in any state to care what she thought of him then, now was an entirely different story though. 

“How am I going to explain it to them?” He went to run his hand over his eyes, his heart pounding when his arm fell uselessly into his lap, before remembering where he was and why.

“You don’t need to explain fuck to them.”

“I sold my ass to strangers for money.”

“You sold your ass to strangers to survive, there’s a difference.” 

Justin concentrated on the familiar feel of Cameron sitting opposite him, he thought about Brian, his mother, and the whole Pittsburgh clan because it was the safer. If he thought about the other thing, the person who put him here, he might start screaming and never stop.

“Where is Brian? I haven’t seen him since I woke up.” Maybe it would have been easier if he’d seen Brian before Cam, before his friend could fill him in on what was happening and he had less time to feel guilty about it.

“He was with you when you woke up.”

Justin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t known that. He was sure his mom hadn’t mentioned that to him when he’d seen her.

“Apparently you uttered the word ‘Cam’ and he hasn’t been able to think straight since.” Cam chuckled a little. “You should worry more about the green eyed monster in Brian, than what he’ll think of you for hustling. He seems to think there’s more to us than just friendship, no matter what I say.” His eyes grew serious again. He didn’t want to come between Justin and Brian. “When you explain things to Brian, you can tell him everything, you know, about me.” 

Justin wanted to reach across and take his hand, but his balance was off and he was afraid it would interrupt their conversation. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can. He might feel less threatened by me then. I don’t want to lose our friendship, and I don’t want you to lose Brian because you couldn’t put his mind at rest about us.”

There was a slight tap on the door, and both men turned around, smiling when they saw Bren. “How are you feeling?” He asked, walking into the room, folding his large frame into the chair next to the bed.

“I feel like we’ve been here before.” Justin’s smile wobbled slightly as they remembered back to when Bren had first found him and hauled his ass to hospital, paying for his medical bills and giving him a chance. “I don’t think you can fix me this time, boss.” Tears suddenly filled his eyes and he let them flow down his cheeks. 

Seeing Bren’s familiar, compassionate face had broken down his barriers, and all the uncertainty that had he’d pushed deep into his soul spilled forth upon seeing him. “I don’t think I’ll be tattooing anytime soon.” And upon uttering the words the panic set in. His lungs closed down, his heart started to beat faster and faster, his airways clogged and he couldn’t drag air into his lungs.

He was going to die, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. It would have been better if the bat had killed him outright, with his arm the way it was he was worse off than dead, he was the walking dead. If he couldn’t tattoo, couldn’t paint, draw or create art, what could he do?

They said physiotherapy would help, but no one knew to what degree. He needed a steady hand, it was more than art, it was his livelihood and he didn’t know what else he could do.

 

Justin watched as Brian stood next to the window, he saw how his fingers clenched and unclenched unconsciously needing to hold a cigarette.

His eyes had looked haunted as he’d entered the tiny hospital room and Justin wanted to cry all over again, but this time for Brian. “I don’t remember it.” Justin said, biting his lip. “I’ve heard second hand what happened, but Daphne wasn’t there. Tell me what happened.”

Brian turned around, hazel eyes glistening he closed them and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t.” Justin edged off the bed slightly, walking over to the older man on unsteady legs.

He went to comfort Brian, but was stopped by a force he didn’t recognise, a chill down his spine, fear in his gut and his head screaming at him not to touch him, not to touch anyone again.

He might not remember what happened to him, but his body did, and that was the worst thing of all, to feel fear of people you love, not knowing why. People had told him what happened, and he understood why he’d be wary of contact, but he didn’t remember it himself, so it shouldn’t apply.

He pushed his left arm out until it made contact with Brian, the sickness rolled in his stomach as he felt soft cotton under his bare fingertips. It was only then he realised his leather gloves were nowhere to be seen.

Brian opened his eyes and looked down at him, some of the fear clenching in Justin’s belly lifted and he let out a deep breath. “Don’t be afraid of me.” Brian whispered, gently putting an arm around Justin’s waist.

“I don’t want to be,” he leaned his cheek against Brian’s chest, “I need to know why I’m feeling like I do. Part of me never wants to remember that night, but another part of me wants to remember every detail. I want to remember you walking in, I want to remember our dance and I want to remember what happened to make me so afraid of physical contact, even yours.”

“I shouldn’t have gone…you told me not to. But I did anyway, and we danced, we showed the fuckers that made your life a misery at school that you were better than them. Then Chris Hobbs,” Justin shuddered at the mention of his name, “showed us that a mere dance doesn’t change anything.”

Justin looked up, his face pale, worried that Chris’s actions would cause Brian to step back from their relationship. “It meant everything.” It was Brian’s way of showing him without words that whatever they had was more than a casual fuck.

“I went to get the car, you waited for me outside the hotel, but I was too far away and I couldn’t stop the bat as he swung it.” Justin reached up tentatively, touching Brian’s cheek, feeling the stubble brush his palm.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe, we should forget about—whatever the fuck it is we’re doing and you should be with Cam—“

Justin pulled himself out of Brian’s arms, stumbling slightly, his right arm swinging uselessly to the side. Brian reached out and steadied him, helping him sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Cam is a friend.”

“You’re closer than brothers, I heard.” Brian went back to the window.

“You have to be closer than brothers when you hustle on the streets.” He said it softly, for the first time admitting what he’d done when he first arrived in New York. 

“Jesus, Jus, why didn’t you come home?”

Justin shook his head sadly. “What home? And don’t say the loft, you didn’t want me there, and I know it would never have worked in the long run. I was too young. I wanted to come home, so desperately. I phoned my mom. Dad answered and told me to stay away. That night I put my sketch books in the bin and had sex for cash.” He didn’t tell Brian about the first time, couldn’t. “I didn’t have a home Brian. And Cam, he just showed me the ropes. So we fucked a few times. It was always for a trick, always for money. We are just friends.”

“Sure.”

“Fuck, can’t you just take my word for it? Do you want to know the first time Cameron had sex?” He demanded, Brian looked over but didn’t say anything. “When he was six years old. When was the first time money exchanged hands, when he was eight, but he didn’t see any of it. By the time he was fourteen he was a pro at pleasuring men and when he ran away from home it was the only skill he had. You know what his dream was when he were on the streets? Never to be touched again, not even by me. His dream finally came true. For two years he’s not fucked, he’s had no one fuck him, that’s the longest time he can remember going without sex and he’s loving it.” Justin slumped against the bed after his rant, still feeling a little guilty for revealing all of Cameron’s secrets, even when he said it would be OK.

“What about your feelings for him?”

Justin sighed, irritated. “I don’t have sexual feelings for him because I never got over my feelings for you, is that what you want to hear? Sorry, but for the longest time I didn’t want to be touched either, and I’m not going to deny how close we are, but I’m not in love with him. 

I don’t know what I feel for anyone right now. I’m panicking because I’ve never been scared of you, not even that first night, afraid yes, but not scared, and right now I don’t know if I can let anyone get close, not even you. 

I’m terrified, Bri, terrified of these emotions, and I’m terrified I’ll never be able to tattoo again. What do I do if I can’t do that? I can’t go back, I can’t.” This must be the longest conversation they’d ever had, but Justin felt no victory in it, he just felt so incredibly tired.

Brian pushed himself away from the window and sat next to Justin, he hesitated in touching the younger man after what he’d just revealed, but found his hand threading with Justin’s anyway.


	37. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian sat amongst Justin’s hustler friends, playing on the play station he would never admit to buying. The door opened and Mikey walked in, “I have your—shopping.” He frowned as he saw Brian with the boys, moving the bag higher over his hip.

“Fuck, Brian, if I’d known you had me out shopping for the hustlers I would have said no.” He plucked a packet of chips from the top of the bag and threw them at Brian’s head, happy when he hit his target.

Brian refused to be distracted from the game. Leon picked up the chips and waved his thanks to Mikey before opening them and eating contentedly, smacking Pete’s hands away. 

Mikey sighed, annoyed at Brian’s lack of attention and put the shopping on the kitchen counter. “This place is a fucking mess.” Sleeping bags littered the floor and denim clad hustlers lounged over every available piece of furniture. 

He picked up a few empty bottles of Coca Cola on his way to the living room, putting them in the already overflowing bin.

“Leave that, Mikey, it’s what the cleaner is for.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have got the cleaner to do your shopping.”

“If you didn’t want to do me a favour, you should have said no.”

“I thought you were drunk, or high, or something, it’s the only time you ever eat junk like that.”

Brian looked up from the game, and stared into Mikey’s pouting face. “You think I’d get drunk and high in the middle of the day, before going to see Justin?”

Mikey shrugged, uncomfortable, the hustlers weren’t looking, but he knew they were listening to everything he said. “What else am I supposed to think?”

Brian focused back on Lara Croft’s unappetising backside as she ran through the jungle, refusing to show how hurt he felt at that comment. It probably wouldn’t have hurt so much if it wasn’t true, but he knew, without Cam’s intervention, he would probably still be tricking and drinking, all whilst high, all in an unsuccessful attempt to forget what happened to Justin.

“Shit!” Lara died a bloody death and Leon laughed, taking the controls from Brian.

“My turn, loser.”

Brian pushed himself from the sofa, going to the kitchen and getting himself a bottle of water, knowing that Mikey would follow.

“How can you all sit here playing computer games while Justin is in hospital? And why are they still here? Justin’s awake now.”

Brian opened the water taking his time drinking, letting the chilled water run down his throat. “They’re here because Justin wants them to be. Because he needs them. And as too why we’re not there…Justin is at his first physio, we didn’t want to crowd him.”

“What about Cam and Bren? Are they at the hospital, they’re allowed to crowd him?”

Brian laughed dryly. “It sounds to me like you don’t want them here, are you offering to stand by Justin’s bedside and offer him support during physiotherapy?” Mikey had the decency to blush. 

“That’s not what I mean, I’m worried about you, don’t want anyone taking advantage of you. How ever you act, I know you’re hurting too.”

“Bren and Cam are at the hospital with Justin. Cam has taken all his holiday from work to be here, and if you hadn’t noticed, Bren owns his own business, in fact, he’s pretty well off, they aren’t taking advantage.”

They were the only ones keeping him sane at the moment. It was amazing how more open he could be with strangers, with people who didn’t expect anything from him, not for themselves anyway. The only thing Cam and Bren, even the hustlers wanted from him was to help Justin, and not hurt him. 

“Cam and Bren need to be there for Justin right now, because he needs them more than anyone, they’ve always been there for each other, they’re like his security blanket, or something.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Why should it?” Mikey didn’t need to know about the problems he was having with Cameron right now, he’d never hear the end of it otherwise. “Why would Justin need me? I wasn’t there when he started to hustle, I wasn’t there when he ended up in the hospital the first time, I didn’t save him from any of those things, and worst of all, the one time I was there, I couldn’t save him anyway.”

Mikey pulled Brian into his arms, hugging him tightly, unconcerned when he didn’t hug back. “Wait, Justin was in the hospital?”

Brian shook his head, realising he should never have gotten into this conversation with Mikey. “Just leave it, I mean it.”

“OK, jeez, don’t blame me for worrying alright?” There was an uneasy silence before Mikey thought rapidly and changed the subject. “Ma’s going to the hospital after she gets off work, she’s going to take Justin some ‘real food’.” Mikey pulled out another packet of chips from the bag on the counter and opened them, munching absently. 

“That’s good.”

 

***

Brian found Cameron outside Justin’s hospital room later that night. “How is he?”

Cam shook his head sadly, “Not good. They say he may never draw again.” Deep green eyes looked up into hazel eyes. “Which means he won’t be able to tattoo again. He’s convinced he’ll be on the streets, selling his ass to anyone who’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Brian wouldn’t fail him again, not about something like that.

“I know, do you think Bren would let that happen? Even if Justin never goes back to work at Mechanical Michelangelo, Bren will never let Justin go back to that. Bren would never let either of us go back to that.”

Brian remembered what Justin had revealed about Cameron and found he wasn’t quite sure what to say, if he should bring it up, or pretend he knew nothing. “Look, I know I’ve been shitty…”

Cam laughed softly and shook his head. “There’s no need to try and be nice to me now Justin told you about my shitty childhood. I don’t want you to hurt him.”

“I can’t promise I won’t.” He was an asshole, he was emotionally inept and he was probably the last person Justin should rely on.

“I know, I just didn’t want you to disappear without trying first. He wants me, Bren and the boys around because we’re safe, because he doesn’t have to pretend in front of us, it might take him a while to realise he needs you too, I don’t want him to realise that and for you to then realise you don’t want him needing you.”

“I didn’t save him when it counted, I’m not going to drop out now, when I might be able to make a difference.”

“Good.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, it doesn’t mean we’ll make it, or that we’ll even stay friends, it means I’m not going to let him push me away this time, and if he runs, I’ll find him. I don’t do relationships, I barely do friendships, just ask Mikey.”

Cameron smirked, pleased at Brian’s discomfort.

“Fuck, why are we even talking like this, he’ll be able to draw and tattoo again, it’ll just take a little time and lots of hard work and things between us will be fine.” Brian ran his hand through his hair, “Your little lost boys are still at mine, feel free to join them.” 

“He’s sleeping now, don’t wake him up,” Cam said as he waked away.

Justin’s room was bathed in darkness, he lay tangled in the white hospital sheets, a frown marring skin just as pale. Brian moved the chair closer to the bed, careful not to wake him.

Justin murmured in his sleep, twisting, kicking out his legs and tangling them further in the sheets. His right arm twitched and Brian caught it in his hands, rubbing the tender skin and opening his clawed fingers massaging his palm.


	38. Mechanical Michelangelo

“He’ll come home with me of course,” Jennifer said to the doctor, ignoring Justin as he sat in a hospital chair, invisible, alone. “Molly can move into the smaller room to give Justin more space…”

No way was he going to kick Molly out of her room, no way would he be staying with his mother, he’d rather be on the streets. He gave a small laugh and she shot a disapproving look at him. “Don’t kick Mol out of her room.”

She looked back at the doctor without answering him. “…And I’m sure the family will help bringing him to his physiotherapy.”

Justin screamed silently, watching the doctor nod at his mother, talk to her as if the bat had damaged more than his ability to draw. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be talking to her, she wasn’t his emergency contact, she was barely a mother to him anymore.

His chest began to feel tight and his head hurt so badly he could barely keep his eyes open. “I’m going home,” he said loudly, as calmly as he was able.

Jennifer looked down at him, smiled patronisingly and almost went to brush his hair out of his eyes, almost; she let her hand drop away as he flinched away from her. “Of course you are, dear.”

“No, I mean New York, my home.” He couldn’t stay with her, pretend to be the seventeen year old son she’d lost three years before, pretend that he wasn’t an ex-prostitute, pretend that she didn’t know he was an ex-prostitute. 

“Justin, don’t be silly, you need to be looked after…”

“Like I needed to be looked after three years ago? Brian did it then, and after him there was Cam and Bren, they’re quite capable of carrying on, I think they’re used to it by now.”

“Justin, you can’t go back to New York yet, your doctors are here.”

He hated how his mother said his name, how she had to say it before each sentence in case he forgot who she was talking to. “No, they’re not, I’m only here now because this is where I got bashed in the head, my doctors, my life is in New York.” 

“What’s going on here?” Brian drawled as he and Cameron entered the room carrying an array of books and puzzles to keep Justin occupied. Brian piled Philip Pullman onto the hospital table and fixed his gaze firmly on Jen. 

“Tell him, he can’t go back there, his doctors are here.” Jennifer pleaded with Brian, only she’d not realised, she was pleading to the wrong person. Cam had much more sway with the blond than Brian did now.

Cam leaned casually against the doorframe, assessing the situation carefully. The doctor looked young and inexperienced, ill equipped to deal with their family dynamics.

“Is it safe for Justin to travel back to New York yet, doctor?” Cam asked calmly.

The doctor looked at Cam like he was a lifeline, as if he was the only sane person there and he probably was.

“I wouldn’t recommend, you’ve suffered tremendous injuries, Justin, flying is out of the question for now, and I’d recommend staying in Pittsburgh until you’re in a more stable condition.”

He looked at Justin for the first time and with one pitiful look Justin felt phantom fingers grasp his airway. He gasped, wheezing when air couldn’t get to his lungs. Brian pushed past and knelt next to him, gripping his hand.

“Justin, are you alright?”

“It’s a panic attack, calm down, Justin.” The doctor seemed to wake from a trance and turned into a professional, pressing an oxygen mask over his mouth until the fierce grip around his throat seemed to lessen.

Eventually he pulled the mask away, letting his good hand fall limply into his lap. He looked up at Cam, pale blue eyes full of anguish. “I’m not staying here, Cam.” There was resolve in his voice and a silent conversation that told his friend that he wouldn’t, couldn’t stay with his mother during his recovery.

“Justin, you’re being ridiculous, you have to come back with me, you need me.”

Justin shook his head, standing, unable to carry on sitting as they all stood over him. “No mom, I haven’t needed you in a long time.”

Tears fell from Jennifer’s eyes and Justin forced himself to be strong, he wouldn’t give in to her tears.

“You almost died; I just want you with me, where I can see you.”

“I’ve lived on my own too long to let you mother me. Fuck, I need to get out of here.” He walked out of the room, Jennifer running after him. 

“Where are you going?” She demanded.

He looked over his shoulder, “To the gardens, I need some fresh air.”

 

***  
Justin sat on the bench opposite the dying rosebushes, their leaves were brown and brittle, his fingers itched to draw them, to give them life, the picture was so clear in his mind, how the frosty moonlight glistened over each leaf, how the shadows danced on the soil beneath.

His hand twitched at the thought, twitched uselessly, it scared him, he felt like he was shut in a tiny room and he couldn’t get out. Not being able to use his hand made everything seem claustrophobic, even the air seemed to crowd him.

He looked down at his hand, curling uselessly, leaning on his thigh. His tattoos seemed to stand out more than usual, and for the first time since he’d realised just what a mess he’d made of his palms, he didn’t feel the need to cover them up with gloves. It was too late now anyone, everyone had seen.

Maybe he deserved this; it was what he was aiming towards as he continued to tattoo infected skin, the needle digging into his weeping hands, injecting black ink. If Bren hadn’t found him back then he would have probably lost them. 

He had to go back home, where people might know what happened to him, but wouldn’t hound him, where their disapproving looks wouldn’t matter, where people wouldn’t be shocked because he’d sold his ass.

Pittsburgh was his past, full of people that hated him for being different, for having the balls to come out while at school, though Brian didn’t really give him a choice there. No matter what, in the eyes of the people he went to school with, he’d always be the one they talked about, the gay one that disappeared and let men fuck him for a few bucks. It wouldn’t matter that he’d been a successful tattooist, it didn’t matter now anyway, he probably would never tattoo again.

He could barely do the exercises the physiotherapist gave him. 

Justin jumped as someone sat next to him, he turned around and saw Brian, he was holding out a thick jumper. Justin pulled it over his head gratefully, only now realising how cold it was.

“Tonight isn’t one of the best nights for a stroll, and in the future, I’d suggest swapping the slippers for shoes.” Brian raised an eyebrow, then looked down at Justin’s slipper clad feet.

Justin let out a soft laugh, and didn’t flinch away as Brian butted his shoulder with his own. “I can’t stay with my mother, Bri. One weeks vacation with her was enough to drive us both insane. And I can’t live with her disappointment.”

“Over what?”

“The hustling,” Justin turned to look at him, his blue eyes wide, “I can’t stand to see your disappointment either.”

“I’m not disappointed, I just—wished I’d done something different, so you’d never had to make that decision.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Fuck, how can you say that? And I’m not talking just about the hustling, we do what we have to do to survive, but you almost tattooed your life away, as you so kindly showed me, if I hadn’t kicked you out that day none of it would have happened.”

“Yeah, none of it,” Justin stressed, “I wouldn’t have learned to tattoo, I wouldn’t have Cam, Bren, or the guys in my life and I would probably still be pining after you, leaning on you like a love sick, weak little fag. I needed to get away, I see that now, my father did me a favour when he told me to stay away.”

“You don’t have to stay away now. If you don’t want to stay with your mother you can stay with me.”

Justin laughed and shook his head. “Because that worked so great before.”

“I think we’ve both matured since then, plus, we both know you’ll be going back to New York as soon as you’re given the all clear.”

“Why are you being so reasonable? Why haven’t you shouted, or told me how very disappointed you are in me yet?” Justin asked, confusion racing around his muddled brain, making his head ache more so than usual. 

“I’m not going to lie, I wish you’d told me about the hustling, to find out something like that off the TV is something I never want to repeat.”

“I didn’t want anyone to find out,” Justin admitted, “I’d done so well at keeping my New York life and my Pittsburgh life separate until you came back on the scene.”

“Yeah, well, I’m good at addling the brain, just ask Melanie. So, what do you say about my offer?”

“I don’t think so Bri.”

“If I can cope with five hustlers taking over my pad these last few weeks, I think I can cope with one recovering tattooist, alright?”

“They’re staying with you? They wouldn’t say, just gave me this smug look. I bet Mikey isn’t happy.”

Brian snorted, “It’s none of his business, and it’s not as if I’m going to adopt one of the little tykes.”


	39. Mechanical Michelangelo

Brian ushered Justin and Jennifer through the doors and away from flashing cameras, he shut the door behind them when all he wanted to do was turn around and thump the closest person with a flash. 

Fucking reporters…

The ride in the elevator was a long one and Brian could feel the tension radiating from Jen, he refused to rise to it. Justin had chosen where he wanted to be and she would just have to deal with that.

Justin headed straight for the bathroom, walking stiffly through Brian’s bedroom. Jennifer made to follow him but Brian caught her arm. “Leave him.” 

She shrugged him off and glared. “He’s my son, I have to see if he’s OK.”

“He doesn’t need to help him take a piss.”

“You should have persuaded him to come home, it’s what he needs, to be surrounded by his family.”

“I think you’re wrong, I think he needs space, he needs to sort things out for himself without people crowding him.” He had an image of Jen in a white coat, clip board in hand, noting down every move Justin made, including taking a piss. 

“What hold do you have over him, Brian? When he was seventeen, even now he prefers to be with you than his own mother.”

“You’re sounding like a jealous wife. You’re his mother, Jen, and you’re expecting too much. He’s took a fucking bat to the head, let him be, let him be wherever he wants to be.” He refused to join in the tug of war Jen was so intent on starting.

He heard the toilet flush and Justin walked back out into the living room, hovering uncomfortably. 

Justin wished his friends hadn’t left already, they were great buffers, great in the time of need, great for hiding behind, but he understood why they’d left before he came out of the hospital, they wanted him to have peace and quiet and they didn’t want to get too used to luxuries they would have to do without as soon as they returned to New York.

He wanted his mother to leave, yet he didn’t want to be alone with Brian. He felt so lost.

“Do you want me to make you anything to eat, sweetie?” Jen asked as she saw him. 

Justin shook his head slowly, “No thanks, I’m pretty beat.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep while I do some work, I’ll order takeout when you wake up.” Justin smiled gratefully and turned back to Brian’s bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and getting under the sheets, letting the luxurious material send him into a world of nightmares.

***

Brian minimised his email account and stood restlessly. The loft was so quiet, and he’d turned the overhead lights off so not to disturb Justin. He wondered over to the TV and looked at the remote control, but couldn’t bring himself to switch it on. He found himself walking towards his bedroom, his mind telling him to stay away, to leave him alone to sleep, to heal, his feet paid them no heed, they only stopped until he had a good view of the blond. 

He stood in the doorway Justin never bothered to closed and looked at his pale form as it twisted around the blackness of his sheets. He looked unreal lying there like that, his tattoos bleeding into the sheets making it look like he was getting swallowed by darkness. 

The thought bothered Brian more than he would like. He took a step towards the bed, listening for Justin’s breathing. It had become a habit he’d picked up while Justin was in hospital, listening to his breath, watching his chest move in and out, physical proof that Justin was still alive.

Justin mumbled something in his sleep and flipped over, the sheets riding low on his hips, showing the swirl of light blond hair trailing from navel to groin. Brian felt his cock harden, disgusted at himself he moved away, deciding to order in pizza, hoping to tempt Justin into eating and distract his hard-on from the slumbering blond.

Justin woke when he smelled pizza and padded into the kitchen, clad in a long sleeved t-shirt and his boxers, Brian tried to remain immune, he shouldn’t be even thinking about fucking with what had happened to Justin. 

“I ordered pizza.” Brian lifted up the box.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to though, whatever you wanted would be fine.”

“Maybe I wanted pizza.”

Justin laughed softly, “yeah, whatever.” He walked over to the sofa, still feeling tired and sluggish, curling up, his feet tucked beneath him, he called to Brian, “Is it OK if I turn the TV on?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He let the TV flicker to life and flicked through the channels, finding nothing that interested him, but wanted something to keep him occupied, to stop the awkward quietness that had never happened between them before.

Brian picked up two bottles of water and placed them and the pizza on the coffee table in front of the sofa, sitting next to Justin, so close their shoulders brushed every time they moved to take a slice.

“What did you do to keep the gang away?” Justin asked, knowing it had to be something radical to keep Debbie from turning up with mountains of homemade pasta.

“I threatened them with castration.”

“I bet Deb was terrified.”

Brian turned to look at Justin, for the first time since he had picked him up at the hospital, he looked into clear blue eyes that hid a wealth of pain. He looked so young in his makeshift pyjamas, his baggy t-shirt pulled over his knees in a childlike fashion

“You have no idea.” It came out as a whisper, though it wasn’t meant to, it was as if his mind didn’t want his voice to interrupt them. With gentle fingers Brian traced Justin’s jaw; he only flinched a little before leaning into his touch. Brian turned his head sideways, fingers trailing upwards, circling Justin’s ear and tracing his hairline, finding the still pink scar, remnants of bat and operation.

Justin stayed utterly still as Brian touched him gently. His heart pounded in his chest, fear, desire, hope, despair, Justin wasn’t sure why. He loved and loathed the touch at the same time. It was Brian, he always wanted to be connected with him in some way, but he couldn’t let go of the sickness creeping into his gut. 

His head was telling him not to let anyone close, that whenever he did he always got hurt; his first attempt at a relationship with Brian, his phone call to his father, the first time with a trick, the ‘real’ first time, and then Chris Hobbs. 

One bash to the head had taken more than his hand, it had taken his memories, memories that were so important to him and Brian, pinnacle to their relationship, it was Brian showing him with actions how much he cared and now he couldn’t remember.

Instead of something good the memory had been replaced by fear and his confused body didn’t realise that Brian wasn’t a threat. He leaned forward, against all the protests screaming in his head he pressed his dry, shaking lips to Brian’s.

He had to do this, he couldn’t take been afraid of Brian, afraid of intimacy with the man that had given him more pleasure than anyone else. 

Brian cradled Justin’s precious skull in his hand, letting the blond kiss him almost frantically. Justin clutched Brian’s shirt, pulling the other man closer to him. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed as he tried to will pleasure into the kiss.

Brian pulled away. “We don’t have to do this.”

Justin opened his eyes, glistening blue pools of pain, “I have to make this feeling go away.” His hands were still clutched into the material of Brian’s shirt, his right hand jerked, a painful spasm starting in his fingertips before riding up to his shoulder. He pulled his other hand away from Brian and held his upper arm into his side, trying to stop the movement.

Brian placed his hand on top of Justin’s. “What feelings?”

“Fear,” Justin admitted, biting his lip, “fear of your touch. I hate that, Brian, I don’t want to fear you, make it go away.”

He shouldn’t, he knew that, knew he should leave Justin to heal both physically and mentally, but he was powerless to deny him. He wanted to sooth Justin’s fears and lose himself in the blond’s flesh, assure himself that he was still there, that the wooden bat hadn’t taken him.

Brian leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Justin’s hairline, feeling the raised pink line beneath his lips. He kissed the frown lines from his forehead and the frowns from the corner of his lips before his mouth hovered over Justin’s, slowly descending until they touched, unmoving for what seemed like eternity.

He deepened the kiss, moving so slowly it was if they were in slow motion. Justin put his left hand around Brian’s neck for balance as he let the older man take control of the kiss. It was passionate, deep and searching, yet slow and tender, all the things a kiss should be, all the things he’d always wanted from Brian—before.

Brian pulled away when lack of air became a problem, he looked into Justin’s pale face and noticed his kiss swollen lips, the way his breathing was coming out in small gasps. It took him a while to decide if it was a panic attack or desire, but Justin pulled his t-shirt over his head and Brian pushed his worries to the back of his mind.

Justin watched as Brian’s hands moved towards him and he willed his body not to flinch as hot fingertips scorched his chest, followed a path of vines around his nipple and hardening it to a peak.

He thought back to the first night they’d met, the first time they’d fucked, his eyes drinking in the sight of a naked Brian, his body lean, butt pale from his tan line adding to the attraction.

He pulled at Brian’s shirt, knowing he couldn’t undo the buttons himself, not without killing the mood completely. “Take it off.” Brian stood and stripped off completely, he held his hand out to Justin and waited.

Justin sucked in a deep breath and put his weak hand in Brian’s. The sentiment wasn’t lost on him. He led Justin back to bed, the sheets still rumpled from Justin’s nap. 

They climbed onto the bed side by side, both silent they scooted closer to each other, until they were close enough to feel each other’s breath. Justin leaned in close, bypassing Brian’s mouth and kissing his strong jaw, licking a strip from chin to ear, loving the feel of stubble against his tongue.

He could do this. He relaxed into Brian, leaning on his good hand while his bad one lay uselessly in his lap. He used his tongue as a paintbrush, creating art on his very own canvas. 

He loved how Brian tasted, a faint hint of cigarettes and danger, he tasted different with every mood, and right now Justin could tell how much he was holding back, how much he wanted this to be good for him.

He leaned back on the bed and waited as Brian crawled over him. Brian’s hand felt red hot as it lay on his hip, as it reached for his cock. Justin gasped as Brian grasped him in his palm. 

He jerked him at the same pace he’d kissed him earlier, torturously slow, Justin couldn’t stop his hips lifting off the sheets. Brian chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss him.

He settled between Justin’s legs and Justin automatically hooked his legs around Brian’s waist, groaning as Brian tightened his hold on his cock. He wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in the sensations, but he didn’t dare, he didn’t like what came out of the darkness. Instead he concentrated on Brian above him, watched the emotions flitter across his face, the beads of sweat caress his hairline lovingly.

He let go of Justin’s cock and reached for a condom and a small tube of lubrication, flipping the lid open he squirted some over his fingers and trailed them underneath Justin’s balls and into the crack of his ass until he felt the slight dip of his hole. 

Justin held his breath as Brian’s fingers circled his anus before slipping a digit inside. He hissed as a finger breached the muscle but he couldn’t stop himself from tensing. He trained his eyes on Brian’s face so he knew who it was, knew it was Brian touching him like this. Brian ripped open the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom onto his erection.

Justin tensed as Brian leaned forward and dipped his hips, cock looking for Justin’s loosened hole. The tip of him pushed into Justin and suddenly it didn’t matter what his eyes were seeing, didn’t matter that it was Brian, his mind and body cried out in protest.

He dropped his legs from Brian’s hips and used his heals to scoot up the bed. Brian looked up, shock on his face. “Justin…?”

“No,” Justin wheezed, eyes wild, filling with angry tears, anger at himself for feeling violated as Brian tried to make love to him. And this was lovemaking. Never had anyone been so loving, so tender and so thorough. Maybe he only knew how to take violence now. “I can’t.” His breath came in short spurts. “Get…off…me.” He pushed at Brian’s shoulders until he rolled off him.

“Justin…”

“Fuck,” Justin tried to calm his breathing but couldn’t help it, he wanted Brian so much, but he just couldn’t do it. “Fuck!”

“It’s OK.”

“It’s not OK.” It would never be OK. “I want you Brian, I don’t know I’m like this…”

Brian placed a hand on his arm and Justin was too upset to flinch. “There’s no rush.” Brian gently eased himself next to Justin, his erection failing fast, he pulled the younger man into his arms and was glad he allowed the comfort.

Justin stayed in Brian’s arms until his breathing got under control, then he pulled himself out and hunted for a pair of sweats to cover his nakedness. Brian sighed and did the same, not wanting to make Justin uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to call Cam?” Brian asked, shocked at himself for even suggesting it. 

Justin’s eyes widened slightly, surprised at Brian’s offer. His heart ached at the mention of Cam and his eyes filled with tears. He felt like a child who’d had a bad scare and wanted to lie in the comfort of his mother’s arms.

Cam had been mother, father, friend, lover to him; it was he who usually helped him with things got rough. He nodded at Brian and tried to keep the tears at bay.


	40. Mechanical Michelangelo

Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed!

* * *

Brian wheeled the TV into the bedroom, taking his time setting it up and leaving the two men to talk together in the relative privacy of the living room. He heard faint murmurs and only strength of will stopped him straining his ears to hear what they were saying.

To hear the magic words Cameron had to comfort Justin, hear them and learn them until he knew them off by heart and Justin didn’t need the comfort of a man who was closer than a friend and more than a brother.

It wasn’t so long ago he had the magic words, that’s what Mikey used to say, but it seemed his words only worked with tricks wanting to fuck in a come-spattered back room of a dingy nightclub. When it came to emotions, to consoling someone who meant more to him that he was comfortable with, he didn’t know jack shit. 

It was irrational thinking, and he just was glad someone was able to help Justin when it was clear he wasn’t doing a good job of it, he wished he knew what to say, how to touch him, but most of all he wished he’d stopped that bat before it even connected with Justin’s skull.

He’d let Justin down so many times. When he threw him out of the loft, when he never took the time to search for him in New York and when he didn’t stop Chris Hobbs attacking him. He wasn’t good when it came to friendship, he was worse when it came to relationships, he’d fuck it up sooner or later, so why try?

He’d lived by those silent thoughts for years, putting on an act that kept his heart and head safe, but somehow Justin had seen through it and no matter how much Brian didn’t want it to happen, how much he told himself, Justin and others that he didn’t care, the blond didn’t buy it. 

He couldn’t stop what his heart felt, deep beneath the surface, beneath skin and bone, masks and lies he wished he was the one who was able to comfort Justin and take his pain away,

Quietly he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of popcorn; placing it in the microwave and watching it go round intently, refusing to look over at them.

Justin and Cameron were acutely aware of Brian as he walked softly around the loft, but that didn’t stop them holding each other like they used to; when the streets got too much, the tricks got too rough and no one understood the fear, the loneliness or the pain like each other did, they would hold onto each other until the sunlight beat away the night.

Justin shuddered in Cam’s arms, the panic slowly relenting with each twitch. Cam’s touch was harmless, asexual and safe. He expected nothing from that simple touch, in fact, wanted nothing. Justin knew how his friend hated to be touched, but it was different with them, always had been. Even when they fucked there was no sexual chemistry there, it was safe, they were safe together. 

“You OK?” Cam murmured against the shell of Justin’s ear.

Justin nodded into Cam’s neck, sighing peacefully and closing his eyes. “Yeah. I couldn’t do it though.”

“Do what?” 

“Let him fuck me.”

Cam tightened his arms around Justin. “I know how that is.”

“You don’t. I want it, fuck, I made a career out of it, why am I freaking out now? A bat to the head has nothing to do with sex.”

“It’s about touch. It’s all connected, Chris Hobbs violated you, touched you against your will, it doesn’t matter if it was sexual or not, you need to heal from that, emotionally as well as physically.”

“What if I never heal from that?” Justin sat back against the sofa, worrying his bottom lip. 

“You’ll heal.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“You’re stronger than me, you didn’t let the streets break you, you won’t let this break you.”

“You didn’t let the streets break you either.”

“No, I was already broken.” 

Cam looked over at Brian, then back at Justin. “Brian will help you through it.” He stood and walked over to the fridge, pulling three bottles of water and handing one to Brian. “You’re doing good, don’t worry so much,” Cam said, unscrewing the cap off his water. 

“Yeah, doing so well, you’re here.”

Cam rolled his eyes at the older man. “It shows you care at least, he knows that.”

The microwave pinged and Brian took out the freshly popped corn. “So, are we watching movies or what?”

“You ready, Jus?” Cam called, walking into the bedroom and making himself comfortable on Brian’s large bed. Justin waited for Brian to pour the popcorn into a large bowl, and walked in with him.

It was a small gesture but Brian couldn’t help but feel pleased by it. 

Brian saw Cam, grinning wickedly and waving two DVDs at them. Brian shook his head, adamant he would not watch either of them.

“No, oh so, no.”

“Come on, Bri, this is a him-flick night. Beer, toilet humour, semi pretty men, and the creators of South Park.”

“They’ll make my eyes bleed,” Brian said dryly, piling cushions against the strip lighting at the head of his bed and getting comfortable.

Justin lay next to him, sharing his pillows, feeling brave now that Cam was here. “They are our favourite movies.”

Cam nodded his agreement. “We have all night, we can watch both.” Cam slipped one DVD into the player and pressed play.

The movie became bearable the closer Justin moved towards Brian. They started by brushing shoulders and soon Justin lay his head on Brian’s shoulder, happily crunching popcorn every now and then.

Justin’s eyes started to droop as he watched the TV and he let the familiar movie and familiar people wash over him, caress him with a tender hand and create a safe haven he felt comfortable snoozing within.

Justin moved down the bed, his head resting on the feathered cushion, his face close to Brian’s waist.

“This is terrible,” Brian complained, Justin smiled silently and moved closer to Brian.

Brian ate the popcorn, needing to do something with his hands so he didn’t scare Justin into moving, he willed his body to stay relaxed, pretending not to notice as Justin moved closer and closer.

“I love this part.” Cam grabbed a handful of popcorn and lay on his stomach, eyes as close to the TV as he could humanly get and still see the picture. His lower legs waved in the air marring Brian’s view every so often, but he didn’t care, he’d watch any crap if it meant having the young blond touching him.

Justin lay with his head resting against Brian’s thigh, his eyes were heavy and he could barely see the TV from his position, but he didn’t mind, a kind of peace had fallen over him, he felt safe, wrapped in cotton wool.

The TV men chanted ‘Beers, Beers’, making Cam laugh out loud, Justin smiled softly and closed his eyes, listening as the movie he and Cam had watched so often, threw out cheap joke after cheap joke.

“Do you want us to turn it off?” Brian asked looking down, seeing Justin drifting off.

Justin opened one eye, looking up into Brian’s concerned eyes. “No, I’m listening.” He closed his eyes again and turned his face into Brian’s taut stomach. 

The tension from earlier had disappeared with the appearance of Cameron and an arm full of cheesy DVDs. Justin was content to snooze in and out of consciousness, happy in the knowledge Brian and Cameron were within touching distance.

“You’re listening?” Humour gave Brian’s voice a lyrical lilt Justin wished he heard more of.

He nodded, his nose rubbing against the soft material of Brian’s jumper. “I’ve watched it so many times before I can see the picture on the back of my eyelids.”

“You can watch your show and we could watch the other DVD.”

“Which one?” Cam asked, looking away from the screen long enough to see Justin resting against Brian’s stomach.

Brian smirked over at Cam. “Orgazmo.”

“Stunt cock!” Justin and Cameron shouted at the same time, laughing like carefree children.

“Baseketball is my favourite.” Justin said, eyes still closed. “It shows you anything is possible.”


	41. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin was tense as his extended family crammed into three different booths at the diner. Molly sat next to him, her hand holding onto the pocket of his jacket, as if she was worried he would disappear.

He couldn’t remember whose idea it was to come to the diner first, and he couldn’t remember who had persuaded him to leave the loft on today of all days anyway. 

He would like nothing more than to hide from the world and forget everything that had happened. He glanced up at Brian and amended his thoughts, well, not everything.

He tried not to show how worried he felt, for Molly and for everyone else. He made his body relax, it was similar to hustling, really. He could fool everyone by loosening his limbs and giving them a sunny smile.

Sickness rolled in his stomach, churning the eggs he’d forced down, making him want to vomit, but he knew if he left the table he would be followed by at least three other people, looking at Daphne, he realised that hiding in the men’s toilet wouldn’t stop her from going in after him either.

It was just after the breakfast rush on a Wednesday, which meant the diner was slow and almost empty. Justin shovelled some scrambled egg onto his fork using his left hand, chewing it and forcing it down.

Debbie practically beamed at him as he ate and he rustled up a small smile for her. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him. He just prayed he wouldn’t throw up at the table.

For once Debbie was also seated and eating at the diner, Justin could barely remember seeing her there unless she was working. She was dressed in what she would consider a fancy outfit, dark gold velvet and matching tie in her hair, no wise crack t-shirt in sight, but no one could take away her PFLAG badges. 

Justin pulled at the tie on the white shirt his mother insisted he wear. His gloves were back in place, for the first time since he’d woken from the coma he’d put them on, too self-conscious to go there without. He didn’t know why he’d give into his mother, the shirt wasn’t him at all. He shouldn’t go there denying who he was, a fucked up, ex-prostitute, tattooed, fag who got bashed in the head. 

He was going to spew.

A bright pink stress ball careened towards Justin from the opposite side of the table. Dropping his fork back onto the plate and holding the edge of it with his good hand he attempted to catch the ball with his right, before disaster struck.

He managed to stop it hitting him in the chest with his palm, but his fingers were too slow to grasp it and it bounced off, landing painfully in his lap. Justin glared at Bren and picked the ball up, squeezing it between his fingers.

“Jeez, Bren, not while I’m eating, OK?”

Bren smiled as innocently as a man covered head to toe in tattoos could. “Just making sure you’re paying attention.”

It seemed like relaxed body language couldn’t fool everyone. There were at least four pairs of eyes who weren’t taken in. 

Bren, Cam, Daphne and Brian had devised a work out plan for him that involved throwing balls at him, it was their way of trying to make him laugh and trying to make him keep up with the exercises the hospital had given him to do.

It was unorthodox, but Justin was under no illusions, the flying stress ball had kept him sane.

Squeezing the pink rubber one more time he pretended to throw it back at Cam, only threw it at Brian instead, catching him unawares on the chin. Justin smiled triumphantly; it wasn’t often that one of them dropped the dreaded pink stress ball.

Brian raised an eyebrow at smiled, making Justin feel proud of himself. “Good going Sunshine.”

“Thanks, but can I please eat without worrying if a ball is going to go flying over my head?”

“Scout's honour.” Brian saluted him and smirked.

Justin took another bite of his eggs happy they were almost gone.

Lindsey pushed her plate away from her in disgust, leaving it mostly untouched. “I don’t know why we bothered, I can’t eat this.”

Justin looked around. It seemed he wasn’t the only one that was having trouble eating. Giving up the pretence he leant back in his chair, giving Brian a smile across the table as he felt the older man’s leg touch his. 

“Coffee everyone?” Debbie said, getting up.

“Ma, you’re not working today, remember?” Michael pulled her back down and gestured to the waitress. “More coffee over here, please.”

Mel quietly went over the notes in Justin’s file, the only one that hadn’t ordered breakfast. Her face was serious and determined, Justin was glad to have her on his side. 

Her hair framed her face, giving her a soft, feminine edge, but the look in her eyes and the dark navy power suit seemed to give her anything but. She looked ruthless.

She wanted to nail Chris Hobbs almost as much as he did. They weren’t kids anymore, his bullying wouldn’t be over looked any longer, and what Chris had done was a damn sight more than bullying. He’d attacked with intent to kill.

Justin shuddered and paled. He didn’t want to think about this, didn’t want to be there at all. To see Chris standing there, perfect in his expensive suit while he stood a broken man, unable to draw, unable to tattoo, with no career prospects if he couldn’t regain proper use of his hand.

“Justin, you alright?”

He jumped slightly and looked up at Brian. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t, and Brian knew that, but he let it pass, Justin needed to look strong in there.

“OK, people, it’s time to get this show on the road.” Melanie looked up from her papers, stared long and hard into Justin’s eyes, letting him know she would do whatever possible to help him.

She collected her files and placed them in her briefcase, waiting for their mismatch of family to trail out of the diner and make their way to court.

Justin took in a deep, shaking breath, feeling his palms start to sweat. He shuffled out of the seat and stood, watching everyone. Brian stood next to him silently, jacket touching jacket.

It was Brian that first made contact, the slight brush of skin, before threading his fingers with Justin’s, walking out of the diner hand in hand, putting up a united front.

“You look hot,” Brian murmured. Justin looked towards Brian, his blond hair blowing in the cold breeze as they entered the streets of Liberty Avenue. 

“I know.” 

Brian laughed, a deep, rich sound that quelled the butterflies in Justin’s stomach. The rest of the family looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Now wasn’t the time for humour. 

But then, Brian had never done what was expected of him.


	42. Mechanical Michelangelo

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, to everyone who has left feedback on my lj or emailed me, this one is for you!

* * *

Justin heaved over the toilet, this mornings forced breakfast coming back with a vengeance. There was a knock on the door and he ignored it at first, hoping whoever it was would go away.

His stomach churned again and he leaned over the bowl until all he was bringing up was stomach acids. He reached up for some toilet roll and wiped his mouth, before slouching back down on the floor.

“Justin? Are you OK? Let me in.” Brian rattled the door handle enough for him to worry about the safety of Deb’s bathroom door.

Still feeling light headed he pulled himself up and unlatched the door, Brian slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

“You OK?” He stared at Justin’s sweaty forehead and resisted the urge to feel for a fever.

Justin shook his head and closed his eyes. “No, I’m not alright.” He could feel the tears form behind his eyelids, he tried to will them away, he’d done enough crying in front of Brian, he had to be strong, even if he did feel like breaking down.

He took a deep breath, got himself under control and opened his eyes. They were glistening with unshed tears, but at least they hadn’t fallen yet, until they trickled down his cheek they could be ignored.

“When things got tough before, I just picked myself up, tried to make it better. I don’t know how to do that now.” Justin folded his arms around himself. “All the other times I had one constant. My art. Now I don’t have that, I feel lost, more than lost.” He raised his eyes to Brian. “I feel dead inside.”

Brian’s face contorted in pain at Justin’s admission. He took a step closer to the blond and pulled him into the warmth of his own body, holding him until Justin unfolded his arms and placed them on Brian’s waist. 

“You won, Justin.” Brian murmured into Justin’s hair.

Justin pulled back enough to look up at Brian. “Did I? Did I really? Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’d give it all up if I could have my arm back in working order.”

“You’ll do it.”

Justin wasn’t so sure, even if he regained most of his motor skills, would it be enough to tattoo? It took a skilled precision and a steady hand more akin to a surgeon than a painter, who could be free with his paintbrush, happy to experiment and joyful over mistakes turned good.

Tattooing wasn’t like that, he couldn’t afford for his hand to start shaking, to twitch. He would not only be ruining art, he’d be ruining somebody’s skin, something that would be hard to undo.

“Are you ready to come out of hiding?” Brian asked, rubbing small circles on Justin’s back.

Justin glared at the locked door and the masses of people on the other side. “I don’t know most of them.”

“You know Deb; she got excited and invited everyone back for a celebration party in your honour.”

Justin sighed, knowing he should feel happy, grateful that Deb cared so much, grateful that so many strangers cared too. He could still feel the shock as he saw people pile into the court room, all wearing familiar black wife beaters bearing Mechanical Michelangelo logo. 

It took away the bone shaking fear of setting eyes on Chris Hobbs for the first time since the attack. 

The wife beaters showed off bare flesh, skin that was marked with unusual designs in an array of different colours. Justin remembered most of the tattoos, even if he didn’t remember the people.

It was amazing how much more confident he felt with a room full of strangers on his side.

It was a subtle show of support, one that probably went by unnoticed by Chris Hobbs, but not by Justin, who saw the thought and effort put in by a group of strangers, so they wouldn’t look outrageous, but at the same time would show unbending support in him and his career. 

“Do you want to leave?”

Justin nodded, relief evident on his face. As nice as it was for everyone to support him and want to celebrate he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Chris would come out of the group of strangers and attack him again.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Justin reached round Brian and unlocked the door, opening it and following the noise back down to the living room and kitchen. 

The downstairs of Deb’s tiny house was filled to the brim of people laughing, drinking and eating, celebrating for him.

It made Justin smile, made him wish he could be part of that, could feel the victory like they did, but for him it was a slim victory, what he wanted wasn’t possible. Going back in time and preventing it from happening was as impossible as Chris feeling sorry for what he had done.

No, Chris’ only sorrow was getting caught, getting put behind bars and having to pay the weak little fag compensation. 

He spotted his mom in the corner talking to Vic and made his way over. Brian followed, his hand on the small of Justin’s back, giving him strength to walk through the crowd of people and talk to his mother.

“Justin!” She spotted him and beamed. “Do you want a drink? I’ll get you one…”

Justin put his hand out to stop her, he didn’t bother explaining that he couldn’t mix alcohol with his pills. “No it’s alright, I’ve had enough, I just came over to tell you I’m heading off.”

Her smile wavered and Justin hated how it made him feel guilty. 

“He’s beat, he’s going to get some sleep before therapy tomorrow.” Brian put in.

“Of course, you need to be in top form for tomorrow.” She hugged Justin, unaware of the stiffness in the set of his shoulders. “I’m proud of you baby.”

He pulled himself out of her arms and gave her a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell everyone thanks for coming, will you?” She nodded and Justin turned away, following Brian, but stopping as he spotted Mel and Lindsey.

They stopped talking as he walked towards them, both giving him huge grins, their smiles were infectious and he grinned back, kissing Linz on the cheek and then hugging Mel tightly. “Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled away, looking back at Linz. “You got yourself a kick as lawyer there.”

Smiling at Brian, he allowed the older man to lead him out into the night.

***

Justin woke up feeling fuzzy, he shook his head, hating the way the drugs made him feel. He padded over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, taking a few gulps before he spotted Brian working at the computer in the dark.

“Working in the dark is bad for your eyes.” He said, leaning down and pressing his cheek to Brian’s,

“Not working, just surfing.” Brian turned his head and captured Justin’s lips with his own. “Feeling better?” Brian stood up, rolling the kinks out of his shoulders and took the bottle of water from Justin’s hand, swallowing the dregs left inside.

Justin’s eyes dilated as he watched, there was just something so sexual watching Brian drink from his bottle, putting his lips where his had been.

“Justin...” Brian moaned, watching as Justin took the empty bottle from him and placed it on the computer desk. He traced the older man’s cheek, feeling stubble tickle his sensitive fingertips.

Frowning as the gloves took away some of the sensation, he used his teeth to rip the Velcro apart and eased them over his hands, letting them drop to the floor. He cupped Brian’s cheek, happy now he could feel the warmth of Brian’s skin seep into his palm. 

Brian placed his hand over Justin’s capturing it against him, and turned his face sideways, until his lips brushed Justin’s hand. He darted his tongue out and licked a strip of skin, making Justin moan as the moist heat shot electrical currents up his arm and down into his cock.

Justin let out a deep, shuddering breath, stepping flush against Brian until he felt the other man’s hardness pressing against him. He swallowed the unnecessary fear that tried to spill out, over him and concentrated on the feel of Brian, the scent that was his alone.

Expensive shampoo and subtle aftershave mixed with the smell of tobacco, it was comforting, it was hot and it made him hard. He bought both hands up and around Brian’s neck, purposely threading his right hand through silken brunette strands of hair.

“I want you inside me,” Justin murmured, smiling as he felt the tension leave Brian’s body.

Brian gathered him close, and dipped his head, taking Justin’s mouth with his in a deep, long drawn out kiss.

Justin clenched his fingers in Brian’s hair, letting the sadness of weakened fingers fly over him with each breath Brian breathed into their kiss.

They made it to the bed and both undressed quietly, each watching the other. Justin smiled as Brian crawled onto the bed, and climbed on after him with much less finesse.

Brian kissed him again, short, shallow kisses that drove him wild. He felt as if his heart had started to beat in time to each kiss, until he changed the pace, faster, deeper. 

Any worries Justin may have had disappeared as Brian took his time kissing him, kissing away the stress of the day and the sadness that came with it.

Justin moved his hips, crying out as his erection brushed against Brian’s thigh, he pumped his hips again and Brian trailed a hand down his chest to his hip, stopping his actions. 

Crying into Brian’s mouth in frustration, Justin yanked at Brian’s hair, annoyed it had no affect on him. Shifting under the taller man slightly, he was able to brush his thigh against Brian’s erection, causing Brian to pause and pull away from their kiss.

Justin looked up into eyes dilated with lust and hopefully, something more. He reached down, grasping Brian’s cock, pumping slowly, making Brian’s breath hitch.

“I want you inside me.” He repeated. He didn’t want to wait, didn’t want anything between them. He wouldn’t let anything else spoil this, spoil whatever could be between them.

Brian reached over him and dropped a condom and lubrication between Justin’s spread legs. He leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss to the tip of Justin’s cock before opening the condom and rolling it over his own erection.

Justin grasped his wrist before he opened the small tube of lube and Brian stilled, looking up at him with worry etched over his face. Justin bit his swollen lips, shredding pieces of skin between his teeth. “Just—go slow,” he finally managed.

Brian squirted the cool liquid onto his fingers and circled Justin’s hole with it. “Like the first time.” He pressed a finger inside, taking his time preparing him, brushing against his prostate.

Neither admitted that this was as different from the first time as they could get.

This was more than sex.

Brian covered his cock quickly with the left over lube and pulled Justin’s legs high up on his waist, positioning himself at his hole and pressing inside slowly.

This was more than a one night stand, and even though no words were spoken, even though they would both deny it in the harsh light of day, it was love.


	43. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin’s skin was drawn tightly over his face, and his lips were a tight line as he fought not to panic. He held his body stiff, eyes scanning every strange person that walked past them.

He didn’t want to be here, surrounded by so many strange people, but he wasn’t going to let his friends leave without a proper goodbye. They’d stayed in the Pitts for a long time, helping him in his recovery and he’d do this for them, even if he could do little else.

Brian stood so close their arms brushed together as they walked. Justin refused to reach for his hand and hold on for dear life, instead he tried to pay attention as Cam chattered.

He was going to miss that chatter, he was going to miss how Cam instantly knew what was wrong and how to make him feel better. 

Cam placed a tender hand on Justin’s arm, pulling his attention back to the present. “I could stick around if you wanted me to.” 

Justin shook his head, knowing he had to get through this alone, he glanced at Brian, or relatively alone, “You’d lose your job.”

“I could get another job.”

“You worked hard for that job, we worked hard for our life in New York, I’m not letting you throw that away, Cam, you can just keep it warm for when I come back.”

“I will, baby.”

“And you’ve always got a gob at Michelangelo’s, you know that don’t you?” Bren raised his eyebrow, dark eyes piercing into Justin’s, willing him to understand.

“I know, you’ve already told me that.” Justin gave a strained smile, knowing that, if he couldn’t go back to tattooing, there would be no way he could work at Mechanical Michelangelo’s again, it would be just too painful.

“I’ll send your tattoo kit here, and you can practice.” Bren sounded ever the teacher, but Justin wasn’t so sure he’d do as he was told. He was scared to draw, scared to tattoo, in case he couldn’t do it anymore.

There was a comfort zone in not knowing, and he wanted to stay there a little longer. Not knowing either way was better than trying and knowing he couldn’t draw, let alone tattoo any longer. He could dream this way.

Debbie had insisted on coming along to see her two new boys off and as a result it ended in a little family outing, one even Michael had come along to.

“Cam, Bren, you know I’ll look after our little lost sheep.” Emmett sniffed. “You just take care of yourself in New York, you hear?” 

Cam smiled; a slow smile only reserved for friends and wiggled his eyebrows. “You come and visit us in New York; you can share my bed anytime.”

Emmett laughed and fluttered his eyelashes as he hugged Cameron tightly before moving onto Bren and kissing the gruff man on the cheek.

Michael’s eyes almost popped out of his head at their easy banter, he hadn’t realised Cam and Emmett were such good friends, he stared at them intently, wondering if there was anything more between them. He couldn’t imagine Cam would go for such an overtly camp guy. 

“It’s time for us to check in,” Bren said, breaking the party up. He gave Justin a hug, neither caring as passers by turned to watch two heavily tattooed men hold on to each other tightly. 

Eventually pulling away, Bren looked at Brian and gave a very Brian-like smirk. He held out his hand, and Brian only hesitated for a second before shaking it. “Look after him, don’t make me come back down here and kick your ass.”

“Scout’s honour.”

 

***

Justin sat cross legged, watching Brian as he pushed back his Italian sofa and moved the coffee table, placing old newspaper over the floor. “I think your new decorating sucks.” Justin commented.

Brian looked up, giving him the finger as he spread out more paper. “I’m not taking any chances.” Once a large area of the floor was covered and old sheets were placed on the sofa, Brian placed five tubs of brightly coloured paints on the floor. 

“Daddy, you done yet?” Gus pulled his pant leg and looked up, wide eyed, bottom lip trembling just slightly.

“Yeah, we’re done now, Sonny Boy.” 

“Yes!” Gus ran over to Justin, climbing on the bed and grabbing the huge pieces of blank paper he’d given Justin earlier to look after. He placed them over the newspaper and watched eagerly as Brian poured the primary coloured paint onto paper plates.

“Come on Jus.” Gus said as he started to take off his trousers and t-shirt.

Brian looked up at his lover and smirked. “Yeah come on Jus.” He too pulled off his jeans and socks, leaving him clad in only his boxers and a t-shirt.

Justin laughed at the sight father and son posed, both clad in shorts and almost matching tees. His fingers itched to paint the image, wanting to transfer it to canvas, immortalise Brian Kinney as no other saw him.

This was a side of Brian, Justin had never seen, relaxed and comfortable, without attitude or fear. It was a side Gus seemed comfortable with though, and that made Justin smile.

“Get your ass down here, Sunshine.” Brian called out as he held onto his son’s hand, helping him balance as the little boy put his feet into the paint.

“Look at me, I’m painting with my feet.” Gus looked up proudly and Justin couldn’t resist the temptation anymore. He stripped off his sweats and joined the two men.

“You do hands, Jus.” Gus said as he stomped over the paper. 

“Which colour should I use?” 

“Green.”

“There isn’t a green, Gus.” Brian said.

“As long as Brian isn’t afraid of a little mixing, we can do green.” Justin quickly coated his hand with blue and smeared yellow over the top. 

“It’s magic. Mommy makes paint magic too.”

Justin pressed his hands to the paper, either side of Gus’s feet. “Your daddy is awfully white isn’t he, Gus?”

“Don’t you dare,” Brian warned.

“Then get on your hands and knees,” Justin smirked and placed a finger in bright red paint.

“You wish, Sunshine,” Brian said, getting to his knees anyway, and placing his hands in two different colours. 

 

“You paint me, Jus,” Gus demanded.

“You want me to paint you?” Justin raised an eyebrow.

Gus nodded and took hold of Justin’s hand, his little fingers tracing the tattoos that adorned his skin. “I want cars, and cats.”

Justin looked at Brian, who shrugged. “It’s none toxic paint, it couldn’t hurt.”

“OK, you sit on your daddy’s lap and I’ll turn your arm into a racing track.” Justin drew crude blue and red cars chasing each other up Gus’s arms. His artistic eye cringed at the lack of technique, but his heart felt lighter. 

“I look just like you!” Gus grinned at Justin and he couldn’t help but grin back.

The hours passed quickly and Lindsey walked in, astonished at seeing Brian, Justin and Gus covered in poster paints. Brian usually managed to stay as clean as a whistle on these father-son afternoons, but not this time.

Dry paint flaked from his skin, and Lindsey had to stand and watch as the father of her son put his hand in some paint and smeared it on the paper, then up his arms. “You boys having fun?”

Three identical expressions looked up at her. Gus tried to run to her, but Brian held on. “You don’t want to get paint on Mommy.”

“See my cars?” He pointed to his arms, which look pretty much smeared in paint to her.

“I see them, sweetie. “We should get you cleaned up for dinner.”

“I’ll take him.” Brian said, standing up. “Wash your feet off in the water, Gus, so we don’t get it on the floor.”

Justin looked at Lindz and rolled his eyes. “He’s as anal as ever.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever complained about me being too anal.” Brian looked at him knowingly, as he wiped the paint off his own feet.

“Only you would make a kid wash his feet to take a shower.”

Brian made short work of showering the paint away, handing a clean, only slightly damp Gus back to Lindz. His son safely with his mother, Brian turned around, surprised to see Justin lying on the newspaper, amidst their paintings, still covered in smears of poster paints, the colours mixing and drying over his skin.

 

Lindsey left quietly, unable to stop the smile that spread over her face as she watched Brian watch Justin.

Justin let his fingertips play with the paint, enjoying the feel of the thick substance, it was something he’d denied himself for a long time. 

It took him a while to realise Gus had gone. He opened one eye and saw Brian, a strange expression on his face.

“I like painting with your son.”

Brian knotted the towel around his waist and knelt down. “I like painting with you.” Unable to resist he dipped a finger into the paint that had somehow collected in Justin’s bellybutton. He pushed the paint outwards, fascinated at the effect of paint on skin, on tattoo.

Justin clasped Brian’s wrist, stilling his movements. There eyes met, pupils dilating. His hand moved up Brian’s strong arm, smearing paint over his recently cleaned skin.

Leaning down over the paint splattered man, Brian kissed him, dipping his tongue the moist cavern of his mouth. 

Justin moved his hand up to Brian’s shoulder, clutching tightly, pulling himself as close to Brian as his weak arm would let him. 

The towel slipped down Brian’s hips as he pressed Justin back down onto the paper. The paint splattered t-shirt covering Justin’s torso was quickly pulled over his head, revealing pale skin decorated in delicate black inks, a decoration Brian thought he would never come to enjoy, but found himself unable to look away, unable to stop himself touching, and tasting.

He didn’t know how he managed to get paint onto his lips, it wasn’t on purpose, of that he was sure, but Justin’s lean chest became the canvas for kiss shaped prints as he moved his way down between his pecs and down to the waist band of his boxers.

The paint on his hands had already dried at this point, and with a glint in his eye Brian pressed his hand into the mostly blue paint and slipped his hand inside Justin’s shorts.

The blond man groaned as the cool, thick paint engulfed his straining erection, his hands pulling the hairs at the back of Brian’s neck, coating them in thick red goop. He arched his hips as Brian pulled his boxers down his thighs, happy to be free of them, happy to have Brian’s hand clasped around his erection, teasing him.

“We can’t do this on top of your son’s painting,” Justin said against Brian’s lips.

“Fuck the painting.” Brian deepened the kiss as his grip became stronger, making Justin thrust up and into his touch.

“You know he’ll be back tomorrow asking for it,” Justin managed to reply in between thrusts,

Brian stopped briefly, his hand still, but wrapped around Justin’s cock as if it was the only place to be. Pulling Justin up and off the painting wasn’t Brian Kinney’s most graceful of moves, but it got him what he wanted.

Justin’s paint slicked back came in contact with polished wooden floor and he grinned as Brian bent over him to kiss him hard. His back pushed into the hard floorboards was not a new position, but it had never felt so good, he could feel the paint trickle down his spine and fill the grooves of the floor as Brian pushed him further down.

The hand playing with Justin’s cock quickly massaged his balls and reached for the puckered opening below. 

The brain cell that still worked made Justin stop him, lust filled eyes searched Brian’s face. “Paint is not a good lubricant.”

Brian smirked and pushed his tongue into his cheek. “But it’s none toxic.”

“None toxic or not, you’re not using it to make way for your dick.”

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed, reaching over Justin to the bowl of water he’d placed there earlier for Gus. He plunged his hand into the tepid water until the paint disappeared. 

Wiggling his clean digits at Justin he placed them in the crack of Justin’s ass, the water making the blond shiver and his cock pulse with need. 

Brian disappeared long enough to find a condom, his feet slipping on the wooden floors, leaving large footprints as he went. He returned quickly, pulling Justin’s legs over his shoulders.

Justin leaned up, trying to reach Brian’s lips as the other man’s fingers stretched him open. Brian pushed into him he leaned in closer, letting the younger man get a taste of his paint tinted lips.

Justin loved the texture of paint on moist skin, paint flaking and transferring to his own kiss-swollen lips, dissolving on his tongue. 

Brian rotated his hips, his latex covered cock running circles around Justin’s clenching pucker. He thrust forward slightly, barely pressing inside before pulling back out and rubbing his erection down the crack of Justin’s ass.

Justin pulled at Brian’s hair. “No teasing.” Justin demanded, thrusting down to meet Brian’s cock.

The head of his cock disappeared inside of Justin and Brian sat up, suddenly fascinated as he watched Justin’s ass swallow him whole. He felt his balls tighten and he groaned, trying to halt his orgasm. 

Justin refused to let him, he circled Brian’s cock with his thumb and forefinger, clenching quickly as Brian thrust inside him. He left his hand there as their bodies joined, feeling the friction as their bodies slid together, as Brian disappeared inside him until there was no room between either one of them. 

His eyes rolled back in his head as Brian thrust against his prostate, and his toes tingled, until they curled uselessly, heels digging into Brian’s shoulders. He could feel his ass clench around Brian, his fingers feeling every move, every twitch, hitch and the tell tale signs of orgasm. 

Brian thrust hard, and Justin’s paint smeared skin sent them both skidding along the floor, but neither cared as Brian gripped Justin’s thighs and pulled him higher, the talented blond’s fingers massaging Brian’s balls as he pushed into him.

With a strangled gasp Brian thrust up sharply, losing his balance and falling on top of Justin, his cock pulsing and spilling its seed until he was spent.


	44. Mechanical Michelangelo

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Cam warned, as the figure, so familiar to Justin, looked at him, undressing him with his eyes. Justin could finally put a clear face to the dick he still had nightmares about. The first dick he’d let fuck him for money.

Now he was back for more. Vomit spurted up into Justin’s mouth and he swallowed it down, he couldn’t show he was bothered by this, wouldn’t do it. 

“I’m not bothered, money is money, right?” He pushed himself away from the wall and from under the cover of a shop doorway. The rain pounded down, soaking his hair and sank right through his coat to his bare skin.

“You get to choose,” Cam called after him.

“And I’m choosing.” He was choosing to let that man back into his body. He felt sick, but walked surely to a secluded alleyway. 

“Money.”

The man smirked. “Didn’t take you long to fit right in, did it?” He slapped the notes into Justin’s hands and Justin gave him a condom, watched him slip it on before turning to the wall and unzipping his fly and pushing his pants down.

Fingers bit into his skin as his one time attacker pushed him further into the wall. The brick was rough against his cheek and he concentrated on that, tried not to think about the man pressed against him, about his fingers probing his ass painfully.

“You’re a god-damned fag.” The trick breathed into his ear and Justin paused, frowned. It didn’t go like this. He struggled to turn around and pushed the man away, his breath leaving him as he looked into Chris Hobbs’ calculating eyes.

This was wrong…he tried to push him away, but his hands wouldn’t work and his feet were glued to the floor. He tried to scream but no sound came out of his mouth. He heard a loud bang and froze, sure he would feel the tell tale thud of wood as it cracked his skull.

Instead he rolled from the sofa, falling to the floor, gasping and dripping with sweat, eyes wide, unsure if this was real or another nightmare. His heart thudded loudly in his chest and it took him a while to realise there was someone knocking on the door.

He stood unsteadily and pulled open the door to see a bored looking man holding a package. Justin frowned. “How did you get up here?”

He shrugged. “One of your neighbours let me in. You Justin Taylor?” Justin nodded. “This is for you.” He handed Justin a package, then a clipboard. “Sign here please.”

Justin frowned and painstakingly signed, his right hand shaking as he scrawled his name. He placed the package on the coffee table, knew who it was from, and wasn’t sure if he should open it, wasn’t sure he could resist the temptation.

He let out a deep breath and opened it, pulled out the familiar black box that held his tattoo kit. He lifted the lid and looked inside, saw the gun twinkling up at him, it had been so long since he’d held it in his hands, since he’d felt the familiar buzz travel up his hand as he pressed the tip to skin.

He shouldn’t have opened it, not without Brian here, he had no willpower, no reason to pull himself out of the depression when he sat there alone looking at something that had been his life for so long.

His downfall and his salvation. 

Justin didn’t need talent to press that nib to his own skin, to feel that familiar feeling as ink filled his skin. It wasn’t always about the art, and if he couldn’t have the art he could at least have the feeling.

 

He jumped when the door opened, he span around in his chair and saw Mikey burst into the room. “Brian?”

Justin stood on wobbly feet and clutched the back of the chair. “He’s at work.”

Mikey ran a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, yeah, of course he is.”

“It’s three-thirty in the afternoon, shouldn’t you be at the comic store?”

“I had to close up shop.” He pulled out a comic book and waved it at Justin. “I need to see Brian, I can’t believe it. They killed him!”

“Huh?”

“Captain Astro,” Mikey said impatiently, “in the last issue, they actually killed him off.”

Justin laughed, his earlier maudlin thoughts lighter in his heart. Other people’s problems really did put things into perspective. “I’m really sorry, man.”

“I just don’t believe it…I’m not thinking right, I raced over here not even thinking of the time or that Brian would be at work, I still thought he was at home—” Realising that his mouth was running away with him, Mikey had the decency to shut up.

“Looking after me,” Justin finished for him. 

“I didn’t mean anything…”

“It’s OK,” Justin ushered them over to the living room, where his tattoo kit lay abandoned on the coffee table. 

“My pathetic problems must make you mad, huh?” Mikey said as he looked at the tattoo gun, remembering how he’d first spotted Justin again in Liberty Tattoos, so different from the twink he used to be.

“No, your problems were just what I needed.” Justin smiled and leant over, placing the tattoo gun back in its case and shutting it with a small click. “Tell me about Captain Astro.” He leaned backwards, and closed his eyes. “Tell me about you and Brian.”

They had never talked, Justin realised, not properly anyway. Before he’d disappeared to New York he had been little more than a child and Mikey had been unsure of his place in Brian’s life, they both loved the other man and found it hard to find their place in his life. 

Maybe this time around would be different, Justin suddenly felt bone weary, exhausted at the difficulties he seemed to encounter and how everything seemed to be another hurdle he had to jump over.

He wished, for once, the hurdle would fall to its side and let him pass easily.

“How can you not know about Captain Astro?” Mikey snorted and leaned back, talking animatedly. “He’s only the best superhero there is, better than Superman, Spiderman, Batman…he doesn’t need a ‘man’ in his name to be great, you know?”

Justin watched Brian’s friend through hooded eyes, happy he wasn’t alone. It had been a long time since he’d been truly alone. With Cameron and Bren leaving, with Brian going back to work he’d felt lost. 

Mikey might not be his first choice in companion but he took the edge off that loneliness, and pushed back the crazed impulses that usually had him loading his tattoo gun and finding a clear piece of skin, or failing that, any piece of skin.

“We used to read Captain Astro comics, up in my room, when we were fourteen. Even then Brian knew he was gay, wasn’t ashamed of it, but I needed Captain Astro’s reassurance—don’t laugh. You should read it, there are so many gay undertones it’s unreal.”

“Who wants gay undertones?” Justin commented. “He should have been proud to be gay; his writers shouldn’t have hidden it between words and under ink.”

“Things were different then…and now, well, now we’ll never know for sure.” Mikey looked sadly at the crumpled comic in his hand, and tried to smooth it out. “It’s the end of an era.”

“Then make a new era. You must be an expert on comics.” 

Mikey couldn’t help but preen over the younger man’s compliments, he’d always felt inadequate around him, the young clever boy who would amount to great things, even after running away he’d become successful, and Brian, he was handsome, clever, and amazingly successful, Mikey had never felt he measured up to that.

“I can’t make a new era, Captain Astro is truly dead. I even phoned the publishers, asked them about it.”

“Write your own superhero then, an amazingly attractively, successful, ‘gay’ superhero who doesn’t hide behind subtext.”

The dark haired man looked shocked at the suggestion. “I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can.”

“I can’t even draw stick figures, no way could I draw a hunky superhero.”

Justin sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that comics are mostly written and drawn by different people, just get someone else to draw it for you.”

“Maybe…you could draw it?”

Justin tensed and turned to face Mikey, his face pale.

“When your hand is better, of course. You always were a good artist.”

His heart and soul ached to be able to draw, to be able to hold a paintbrush and not have his wrist shake uncontrollably or his fingers cramped and turned into claws. “That might be a long time to wait.”

“I don’t think it will be that long.”

“Then you have more faith in me than I do.”


	45. Mechanical Michelangelo

Justin lay on the floor, phone attached to his ear as he waited for Cam to pick up. He’d only intended to catch up with his friend, to talk like two friends did, but as soon as he heard the other man’s voice on the end of the line he felt the emotion well up and out of his chest.

“I had that dream again.” He’d ignored it up until now, concentrating on Mikey and the comic he so desperately wanted to create.

“What’s happened, Jus?” Cameron said on the other side of the line.

“I don’t know, nothing, just feeling—.”

“Crappy,” Cam finished.

“Yeah, he always finds me when I’m depressed.” And by ‘him’ Justin didn’t mean Chris, he meant his faceless attacker, his regular trick, the one person who could make him heave by just thinking of him.

“On the nights he never sort me out I’d dream about him, sometimes, I’d rather he be there for real because it wasn’t half so bad as what my imagination could cook up.”

“I remember…look, do you want me to come back down there? Did you get Brent’s package?” There was a worried tone to his voice.

“I got it, and don’t worry, I didn’t do anything stupid. I thought about it though.”

“Where is Brian when you do all this thinking?”

“Don’t blame him, Cam,” Justin adjusted his position on the floor, leaning his feet up on the sofa. “I’m fucked up. Mikey wants me to illustrate this comic book.”

“That’s great.”

“I can’t draw.” He glanced sideways at the wooden floorboards, crumpled paper and blunt pencils littering his view. He was literally surrounded by half finished sketches, jagged lines and paper punctured because he couldn’t control his hand anymore.

“You’re still going to physiotherapy, right?”

He picked up a crumpled sketch and threw it towards the waste paper basket, missing. “They say I may never draw again.”

“Yeah? Well, they tell people they can’t walk so when they do, they think the doctors have performed miracles.” Brian interrupted as he pushed the door sideways with his shoulder, carrying a large box into the loft.

“Is that Brian?” Cam asked, hearing a faint voice.

“Yeah, I should go. Love you.” He switched off the phone and sat up.

“You gonna give me a hand here? There’s another box in the elevator.” 

Justin walked barefoot, picking the box up, only faintly interested in just what Brian was bringing home from work.

When he placed the box on the floor in the middle of the living room Brian almost had a computer monitor out of its box.

“Why do you need another computer?” Justin frowned and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Brian paused slightly, before looking up, hazel eyes serious. “This isn’t for me, it’s for you.”

“Why do I need a computer?” 

“Let me put this together, and see.” Brian only hoped Justin took this well.

Justin waited quietly, not offering to help as Brian put the computer together, tangling himself in wires. It was unnerving and Brian found himself fumbling, wishing Justin would chatter endlessly, try to guess as to why he’d got the new computer, something, anything that the old Justin would have done.

But he wasn’t that seventeen year old boy anymore. He wasn’t even the streetwise tattooist. He was floundering, unsure where he fit within the world now, and Brian only wanted to make that clear for him. He was an artist, no matter what medium he used.

Brian finally managed to get the computer connected, and turned on, leaving it on the floor in the middle of the living room, they could find a place for it after Justin accepted it.

Justin was tense now, a niggling idea of why Brian had brought the computer coming to light.

“What is this?”

“It’s a computer.” Brian didn’t look at him, but watched the computer as it loaded.

“Don’t be a prick.” Justin folded his arms around his waist, curling in upon himself, feeling vulnerable, and not really sure why.

“It’s to draw on.” He picked up the thin cylinder, holding it in his hands like an ordinary pencil.

“I don’t need that, Brian.” To use that would be admitting defeat.

“I thought it might help with your recovery, just until you get your strength back.”

“We know what the doctor says about that.” He gave a bitter laugh.

“Look, it’s just like a pencil.” Brian placed the tip of the cylinder to the screen and swirled, leaving a black mark on the monitor. “You don’t need as much pressure with this, though. See?”

“It’s not the pencils I care about, not really.” Justin moved away from the computer, sitting down on the Italian sofa, wishing he could disappear into the cushions. He looked up at Brian with wounded eyes as the other man followed him, he couldn’t help it, couldn’t mask the pain from them. “It’s not going to help me tattoo.”

“Baby steps.” Brian sat down next to him. “You have to walk before you can run, remember. Use the computer for Mikey’s comic and work slowly towards tattooing.

Justin frowned, he wasn’t so sure it would work, didn’t like the constrictions a computer would put on him. He ached to be able to paint something so big it would fill one wall, to cover himself in paint and feel the texture of paper.

“OK, I’ll give it a try.”

 

Justin sat back on his chair, staring at the computer screen. Mikey bent down, peering over his shoulder. 

“That’s great! Our very own superhero.” Mikey said, his eyes not picking up the many mistakes Justin spotted with his trained eye.

It wasn’t the same as drawing, didn’t give him the same high as tattooing, but the computer filled a void, gave him something positive to think about, and gave his inactive mind something to work on, something to create.

Justin wasn’t so sure. It had turned out alright, but it didn’t give him to rush a pencil, a tattoo gun gave him. It didn’t seem real, that place behind the monitor his drawings were now confined too.

“Should we give him a cape?” Justin asked.

“No cape, too eighties. We need to bring superheroes into this century, physically as well as sexually. Plus, I keep picturing Emmett in his pink morning robe.”

Justin laughed, “Definitely no morning robe. We do need a name though—and a storyline, at least for the first issue.”

“Something edgy.”

“Something better than Superman or Batman anyway, I mean, when you think about it, those are the two lamest named superheroes out there. Wolverine, or even Daredevil, now they’re great names.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Captain Astro.”

Justin twisted in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Mikey. “Please, even without the gay undertones, the name makes it totally gay.”

“Fucking piece of shit,” Brian shouted from the other side of the room, ripping the ear phones out of his ears and banging the ipod on his palm. Up until this point they’d not heard a peep out of the other man, who was doing his best to give the two of them space to create.

He opened the battery compartment, quickly changed the batteries and turned it back on. “Cheap junk…” he fumed, shaking it and then throwing it at the wall opposite me.

“Rage.” Justin said, suddenly feeling excited.

Mikey grinned. “Rage. I like it.” 

Justin turned to the computer and added Rage in a speech bubble above his head. “Rage, Gay Crusader, superhero, he may not have a cape, but he’s a better fuck than superman and batman put together!”

“I don’t know…I think superman and batman would be hot together. Bruce Wayne, beneath all that rubber, talk about repressed passions.” Mikey turned back to Brian. “Bri, we have a name.”

He glanced over at them. “Lovely.”

“Rage.”

“I’m happy for you, really.”

“Well, you could sound happier.”

“My ipod is broken; do you have any idea how much this cost?”

Mikey stood up, crossing the room and pulled Brian’s lanky frame down so he could press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re such a drama queen. How about some real music?” He looked to Justin. “Why don’t we go out and do some proper celebrating. Babylon, tonight?”

Justin froze, his heart skipping a beat, his eyes met Brian’s briefly, and the question in them angered him for some reason. He didn’t want Brian to hesitate for him, to stop himself going out because he was too scared to go out.

“Sounds good to me, I haven’t been in ages.” Since before the attack, but none of them mentioned that.

Justin turned back to the computer, saving his work and shutting it down, all the time feeling Brian’s eyes burn into the back of his head.

“Great! I’ll go home and meet you there at eleven.”


	46. Chapter 46

  
Author's notes: thank you to Mary, who was nice enough to take on the job of betaing for me, you're a star!  


* * *

CHAPTER FOURTY SIX A Friend Indeed

 

Justin followed Brian into Babylon, outwardly calm, no one would notice his stiff spine and the way he dodged away from groping hands. He donned the façade he used to wear when hustling became too much, a blank mask that hid his feelings from the customers he was meant to please. It was a relief to reach the bar and spot Mikey.

“Guys, you made it!”

Brian rolled his eyes and leaned over, kissing his best friend quickly on the cheek. “We said we would didn’t we?”

“So, what are you both drinking?” Mikey turned and half leaned over the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention. 

“I’d love a beer,” Justin said, snorting as Brian raised an eyebrow at him, “but I’ll settle for a water, damn pills.”

Justin took his time in surveying the people around him, making sure they didn’t come too close before letting the music seep under his skin. The steady rhythm loosened his tense muscles and he let out a slow breath.

The cloying heat and stench of sweat, beer and cigarettes made him feel nauseous at first, until somewhere in his subconscious remembered he used to like this kind of thing. It went hand in hand with the music, and that he enjoyed.

Someone pushed past him to get the bar and he tensed, eyes widening and breath sticking in his throat. Brian pulled him away quickly, settling him in the crook of his arm while shouting obscenities at the guy who had touched him. 

“I’m OK,” he shouted over the music to Brian, he didn’t want to ruin this night, he wanted to go home and know it had been a success, that he could be around people again without totally freaking out.

Mikey handed him a bottle of water as he unscrewed the lid, glad to have something else to concentrate on. Fleetingly he wished it was something stronger, something to give him Dutch courage. 

He glanced at the man who barged past him and realised he was nobody special, not particularly gorgeous, not muscular, just a regular guy. He was used to being up close and personal with men like this, he used to get paid to fuck, and now he had trouble even touching them. He took a swig of water, swilling it around his dry mouth before swallowing.

Mikey leaned in front of Brian and clinked his beer with Justin’s water, “Here’s to Rage, partner. I’ve got some ideas for storylines.”

“Mikey, Babylon isn’t the place to talk business. It’s about fun.” Brian said in an exasperated voice.

“Rage is fun, I’ll have you know! But I’ll refrain from tainting your ears with my wonderful ideas. We’ll get together tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sure, Mikey.”

A man dressed in goth attire walked past, and both he and Justin did a double take at each other. He took a step backwards until he was face to face with Justin again. “Justin, it is you!” He grinned and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

Justin smiled back. “Hi Alex, it’s good to see you, man.”

“You too, how the fuck are you? I heard about what happened,” he frowned and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, “I wanted to get in touch, but I didn’t want to intrude, or for you to think I was only getting in touch because of everything, you know?”

“I understand, it was a messy time, probably best to stay away.” 

“Hey, I remember you, from the tattoo convention. Justin tattooed The Crow on your back.”

Al nodded and grinned proudly. “Yeah, best tattoo I ever had.” He suddenly looked up at Justin, guiltily. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to rub it in or anything.”

Justin shrugged, it was still a very sore subject with him, but he didn’t want anyone else feeling sorry for him. “It’s OK to mention it. I’m gaining my strength back slowly.”

“Yeah, he sure is. We’re even writing a comic book together.”

“That’s great! I love comics—obviously.” 

Brian sighed irritably, feeling somewhat left out. “More shop talk. No work talk at the dinner table, boys.”

“Fine, fine.” Mikey snorted in annoyance, but couldn’t stop himself grinning like a school kid.

“This is Alex, by the way, and Al, this is Brian.”

They looked each other up and down, Al not backing away from Brian’s hostile stare. Justin wasn’t even sure his new friend realised Brian was sending him such evil glares.

“Nice to meet you, Bri.”

“Yeah, you too.” Brian didn’t sound too enthusiastic, and when Mikey dragged him off to the dance floor, Justin was too relieved that no argument was started. He started to feel panicked about being left alone.

“I really am sorry I didn’t call.” Al said, totally serious now.

“It’s really OK, It was a bad time, not only with the physical problems, but with the media and getting all my shit stirred up. It was probably best you stayed away.”

“Not anymore though, I promise to give you a call this time.”

Justin smiled, feeling better. It would be nice to have a friend or two that had nothing to do with Brian, he didn’t want to become dependant on the older man for everything. 

“Or I could call you.”

 

Brian chose that moment to strand Mikey on the dance floor and wind his way back to Justin. “Well, Mikey sucks.”

“I hope you asked the nice professor and didn’t go at it on the dance floor.” Justin smirked unable to resist the slight taunt. 

“You’re such a kidder. Want to go to the back room and see what else sucks?” He lifted an eyebrow and ignored Mikey as he joined them.

A cold shiver ran down Justin’s spine and he shook his head. “I think my sucking in public days are over. You go though.” Justin wiped a bead of sweat from Brian’s forehead.

“You sure?” Brian asked, suddenly serious, as if he was waiting for Justin to put up a fight and accuse him of something.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll catch you later on, yeah?”

Brian clanked his forehead against Justin’s and pressed a quick, grateful kiss to his lips. “Yeah.”

Mikey stared at Brian’s back, watching him disappear into the back room before turning back to Justin. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not really.”

“The fact that we’re meant to be celebrating Rage, and he’s gone looking for a trick?”

“Mikey, if I’d wanted to fuck in public, we’d both be there, I don’t, so I’m not, and he does want to fuck in public, so that’s what he’s doing.”

“Doesn’t it get to you though, the fact that he’s fucking another guy, probably getting his dick sucked right now?”

Justin lit up a cigarette, Mikey’s questions bringing on a headache. “Sex is just sex, I think I know that better than most.”

“I don’t think I could be like that with Ben.”

“It’s different for everyone though, I have a regular fuck buddy, we have fun, but we also have fun with others,” Al added.

“It’s different with me and Bri, I know he wants variety, he likes the chase and excitement of sex with different men. I’ve had enough men in the past, most with no emotional attachment involved, to feel threatened by it.”

“You’re a better man than me then, I’d never be able to put up with Brian if I were you.” Mikey frowned, looking towards the back room, and Justin saw the realisation of his words as they finally sank in. Maybe Mikey would now realise why he was the best friend and not the lover.


	47. Chapter 47

  
Author's notes: Thanks again to my beta Mary!  


* * *

FOURTY SEVEN The Difference 

The door slammed sideways as Brian pushed it open, pulling Justin over the threshold and ramming it shut behind them. “I know you’re not into public displays of affection,” Brian smirked as he pulled Justin to him, grinding his hips against his. 

“I don’t know,” Justin said against his lips, “Displays of affection I can handle, but sucking in a darkened corner is kinda old.” He pushed himself upwards, using Brian’s taut chest as leverage and threaded his fingers through his dark locks.

Brian pulled at Justin’s t-shirt, making the blond pull away so he could push it up and over his head. It always surprised Brian, seeing Justin’s pale skin adorned by black ink. He knew it was there, yet each time he unveiled the younger man he expected to see the body of the inexperienced teenager he used to be.

He still looked young, even underneath the tattoos, but his actions, the way he moved, was anything but, Brian wondered if he’d had any fun at all, learning all the tricks of pleasing a man, or if it had all been about surviving.

He hoped, for Justin’s sake that he’d enjoyed some of the sex, he tried not to mourn the loss, he would have liked to teach the boy more himself, teach him how to move his fingers, how to tease in all the right places and how to suck, fuck and be fucked with the maximum amount of pleasure.

Justin caressed his chest, flicking open buttons expertly and revealing inch by inch, supple tanned flesh. He grinned up at Brian, flicking his tongue over one nipple, Brian groaned and closed his eyes, not wanting Justin to guess just where his thoughts had wandered.

He regretted a lot in his life, no matter what he told others, no matter what his friends thought, and how he treated Justin back then was one of the things he regretted the most. What would Justin be like if he hadn’t thrown him out that fateful day?

Brian couldn’t picture him any other way than how he was now, a tattooist, strong minded, slightly jaded, but successful, even now, and maybe that was a good thing. He desired the man Justin was, tattoos, intimacy issues, problems and all.

He pulled Justin up, stopping him from reaching the buckle to his belt and kissed him hard, his tongue demanding entrance to his mouth as his hands steered Justin to his bed, pushing him down onto it and covering his body with his own. 

He undid the zipper to Justin’s jeans, and pulled them down to his ankles, where they got stuck on his boots, Brian left them there, removing boots would take too long.

He started at Justin’s knees and darted his tongue along the patterned skin, as if chasing the lines up his body.

He wasn’t usually into men with so many tattoos, he wasn’t into goths, or twinks, yet all that went out the window when it came to Justin. He was different, had been at seventeen and was now. 

Justin moved underneath him, pushing his boots off his feet and letting them fall to the floor with a thud. He managed to kick off his jeans which left his legs free to clamp around Brian, to give him leverage to grind his erection against Brian’s thigh.

They both groaned and Brian almost fell on top of him, catching himself at the last moment and licking a trail up Justin’s neck, around his jaw, and finally to his lips.

Justin’s hands clutched at his upper arms and Brian noticed distantly that his left hand was gripping harder than the right, tremors running through his fingers as he tried to clutch tighter. 

Brian’s heart gave a painful beat as he remembered why Justin was having so much trouble with such a simple act, but he refused to acknowledge it, didn’t want to bring Justin’s attention to it. It had been a good night, and he wanted to end it on a high.

They kissed, and it was different from the others, deeper, slower, tongue against tongue, one mouth then the other, wet and messy and perfect, a kiss unlike any Brian had received before.

It scared him, made him want to push the feelings in his stomach far away, but he couldn’t get enough of Justin, he was painfully hard and he had been all night, even finding release with nameless tricks, hadn’t taken the edge off. 

It hadn’t taken the edge off his libido, but it had quelled his urge to run from Justin and the feelings he had for him. Justin’s reaction to his tricking was a surprise, he’d thought the blond would be annoyed, irritated, even jealous, but he’d shown maturity beyond his years, a maturity for the situation that could only come of how he’d survived on his own in New York.

Sex and relationships were two different things, and it calmed Brian to know Justin understood that. He wasn’t going to change who he was, and who he fucked for anyone, but that didn’t mean he cared less about Justin, on the contrary he cared more about Justin than he did anyone else, apart from his son.

“Hurry the fuck up, Brian, take off your goddamned pants.” Justin moaned between kisses, trying to push his hands between them and push the pants off Brian’s hips. 

Brian laughed softly and sat back, opening his zipper and pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. His erection sprang free, bouncing slightly, Justin’s eyes watching every small movement.

Small supple fingers grasped him gently, in a way only an artist could, tracing each vein, circling the base and brushing the wiry hair it sprang from, feeling every inch of velvet skin, as if he were making a sculpture of it. He applied pressure and Brian wasn’t expecting it, hot palm grasped around the length of him, jerking slowly, with unsteady rhythms because Justin had used his right hand and not his left. 

Brian watched the hand around his cock, feeling it harden even more under the expert touch, felt his hips move of their own volition, unable to stop them, even if wanted to stop. Justin pushed himself up on his left hand, slowly turning them until Brian lay underneath him, he kept up a steady movement and Brian forgot to protest.

And he really did want to protest, he liked to be in the driving seat, to be the one in control, control of the pleasure, how much he let go and how much to reveal, but with Justin spread out on top of him, with alcohol weakening his defences, he just couldn’t seem to put up much of a resistance. 

Even as a spit soaked finger caressed his balls, dancing delicately over them and finding the small entrance behind, circling it, as if gauging his reaction, before slipping slightly inside, he didn’t protest, his only action a groan and a thrust of the hips, unsure in which direction he would gain more pleasure.

Justin slipped his finger further inside, exploring a place he hadn’t ventured since his teenage years and Brian opened his eyes, unsure when he’d actually closed them, and watched the emotions play over his face as Justin rediscovered Brian’s body completely. 

When Justin reached into the bowl beside the bed and came back with a tube of lubricant and a condom, Brian didn’t utter a sound, just watched silently as Justin ripped open the packet and rolled the latex over his erection, then coated it liberally in lube and settled himself between Brian’s open thighs.

Justin pressed two fingers back into Brian, scissoring them, making sure he was slick and ready before pushing forward, cock straining towards Brian’s entrance and thrusting slowly inside.

Pleasure rode Justin’s face as Justin rode Brian, and the older man fought with himself, not wanting his eyes to close and miss the emotions playing over Justin’s delicate features, not wanting to miss those blond lashes caress his cheeks as he gave in to his body’s own need, not wanting to miss the angle of his head as it fell forward in ecstasy and how his hair tangled against his mouth, getting stuck by the slight sheen of sweat that now covered his entire body. 

Brian didn’t want to miss any of it, and while pleasure over took them, while Justin was too caught up in feeling, he allowed himself to open up, to be truly unguarded for the first time he could remember, just once he would allow himself the happiness, the rush, the pleasure of passion with someone he cared about.

There was a whole difference between sex and relationships, Brian was glad Justin understood that, it gave him to the room to stop pretending, made him less weary of being himself, and made him want to stay instead of run.


	48. Chapter 48 Radioactive Man

FOURTY EIGHT Radioactive Man

Justin didn’t want to know where Brian got the flowered wallpaper, he was just thankful it was there. Like a man possessed, he tacked the wallpaper to the bathroom wall, plain side facing outwards creating a blank space for him to work on.

It had been months since he’d really felt the physical ache to paint, and he didn’t have time to go out and get proper canvas, this would have to do. He squirted an array of different colours onto a plate and using the biggest paintbrush he had started to add colour to the back of the wallpaper.

“Fucking, shit!” He swore angrily as his hand started to shudder and his grip on the paintbrush wouldn’t give him enough control. He threw the brush to the floor, unconcerned when paint splattered everywhere, this was why he was in the bathroom after all.

Remembering back to his and Brian’s painting session with Gus, Justin stuck his fingers in the paint and smeared it over his makeshift canvas. He wasn’t sure if it would turn out like the picture in his head, but leaving the brush out of it had given him back some control.

He let his fingers dig into the paint, push it around the paper, merging with other colours, uncaring for precision, he just needed to get the image from his mind onto paper.

He would mourn the loss of precision later, when he had time.

The image of a man came quickly, defined muscles shown beneath a thin blue outfit. It was the first time he’d painted this figure without the aid of his computer, and he was having trouble with the colours.

None of that mattered though, he needed to work larger than the computer allowed, he needed to feel the painting come to life beneath his finger tips, in a way it never did when he used the computer.

He needed to bond with his creation, to breathe life into it and become part of it himself. This may not turn out, it may not look as it should, but it was something Justin needed. 

His talk with Michael earlier on in the day had turned a switch on inside of him, that switch he’d had as a child, the one that told him to draw, to paint, to create, even if it didn’t turn out good in the end.

They had their Rage storyline and it was big, so big Justin felt the need to paint big. Acrylics dripped down his arm, winding a pathway through his tattoos, it dripped from his elbow onto the floor and he had to be careful not to slip in the multicoloured puddle.

He started on a second figure on a second piece of wallpaper tacked next to the first. The figure was slightly shorter than the first, and his outfit a different colour, Justin was happy to see a resemblance to the character emerging from beneath the paint, it was crude and loosely painted, but there was a rawness, a quality Justin was pleased with. It gave movement to the silent figures and by the time he started to paint the third and final figure he was confident without the brush.

His whole arm started to throb, but he refused to finish, he worked through the shakes and repainted the sections too affected by the tremors. 

The third figure he painted was crouched, defined muscles showing beneath what he hoped would look like a black mesh t-shirt. Blond hair lay messily around his shoulders, and pale arms were covered in tattoos Justin was only too familiar with. 

The figure was crying, hands covering his eyes, blackness pulsing from beneath his fingertips and shooting out in all directions.

Justin went over the painting, smudging the tattoos down the skin, until it looked liquid, alive, he piled blue-black acrylic underneath the man, creating a puddle, small splashes of ink splattering the man’s blue jeans, making holes in the fabric and smoking slightly.

Only then did Justin stand back and look at the full picture. He sat on the toilet, paint drying up his arms and in between his toes. Rage, Zephyr and Ink, the three characters that would make up the premise of their comic book.

 

Emotions whirled around his gut, making his throat hurt with unshed tears. He wasn’t sure he could do this storyline without completely falling apart. 

The door opened quietly and Brian poked his head around. “Is it safe to have a piss?” Justin moved away from the toilet silently and Brian stepped over the worst splatters of paint to get to the toilet.

When he finished he turned around and got his first look at why Justin had become like a man possessed most of the afternoon. “They’re brilliant, Justin.”

Justin shrugged, unsure, it wasn’t anything like his old style, or the style he’d found with the computer, but that wasn’t his problem. “Has Mikey told you about our first storyline?”

“Isn’t that what you were going over today?”

“Yeah. Mikey wanted to add another superhero into the mix.”

“A trio, well, that’s different.”

“He wanted to add Ink, a hustler who was captured by homophobic pricks and tattooed with radioactive ink, in the hopes of making him unattractive, making his skin rot, make him unable to paint, making his customers hate him, but instead he gets powers. Acid ink that spurts from the palms of his hands.

Rage and Zephyr will find him, too late to do anything about the tattoos—about the radioactive ink, but Rage will recognise Ink as the young boy he sorta, kinda loved once upon a time.” 

Justin ran his hands through his hair, smearing paint through his blond locks. “Of course, and Mikey likes this part, the ink seeping from the palms of his hands prevent him touching anyone he loves,”

“With his hands anyway,” Brian smirked and turned to Justin. “And Mikey cooked all this up on his own?” Justin nodded. “How very ‘Rogue’ of him.”

“It’s just a little close to home, you know?”

“But full of angst, full of unrequited love, men with muscles and ten inch cocks.” 

Justin laughed shakily and bumped his shoulders with Brian’s. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious. If you don’t want to do it, tell Mikey to go back to the original duo.”

“No, I do like it, I just feel so—raw. Like I’ll be showing everyone what’s really beneath the tattoos.”

Brian leaned down and kissed him. “It’ll be powerful, but it’s your call.” He left the bathroom and it took Justin a full ten minutes to realise that the older man hadn’t blown up over the mess or complained about being kept out of his bathroom.

Justin followed Brian out of the bathroom, “Brian?” he called, Brian looking up from the fridge, a bottle of water in hand. “Where did the flowered wallpaper come from?”


	49. Chapter 49 Land of Nod

  
Author's notes: I know it's been a while since the last update, thanks to everyone who has kept reading and being so patient!  


* * *

Forty Nine THE LAND OF NOD

Brian pressed the button to the elevator with his left hand, clutching his cell phone to his ear with his right. “And you’ve OK’d it with the club?”

“Bar, it’s a rock bar, Brian, and yes. It’s all sorted on this side.” Brian rolled his eyes, but then realised Bren couldn’t see him. “The full size Rage, Zephyr and Ink posters you sent over are amazing.” There was a slight pause. “It’s good to see our boy can still use his talent.”

“Yeah—shit, my god damn elevator is stuck.” Brian said giving the button another sharp jab.

“Use the stairs. The Serpent will be packed for the launch, nearly every customer we’ve had come into the tattoo shop has brought a ticket.”

“Yeah, well, having it in New York better be a good idea. Do you know how much planning I’m going to have to do to get everything sorted, to get our whole god-damned family sorted so they can come over and witness the great launch party?”

“Don’t give me that, Brian, you’ll get your secretary to do it.”

“And she’ll expect a raise.” Giving up on the elevator Brian jogged up the steps to his apartment, letting himself in, and standing wide eyed in shock. “Jesus…” He muttered, more to himself than to Brendan.

“What’s wrong?” The tattooist asked.

“My whole apartment looks like a bomb of paper and ink has gone off.”

Paper covered every possible floor surface, drawings were piled neatly, all numbered and in some haphazard order known only to comic geeks and artists. Brian didn’t know where to tread. The piles seemed to be set in a semi circle and he followed that circle inwards, towards his bed.

The feelings; the anger and other emotions Brian didn’t let himself believe in, crashed over him as he saw his best friend and lover fast asleep on his bed, both curled towards each other, Mikey’s hand resting lightly over Justin’s hip.

“Hello, Brian, you still there? Brian, you OK?” Brian could hear the faint buzz of Bren’s voice and slowly lifted the phone back to his ear.

“I’m here.” He didn’t explain more than that, but looked from the men on the bed to the drawings invading his space. Anger swallowed the hurt until he could tell himself he hadn’t felt hurt at all.

Why they couldn’t do this shit in Mikey’s apartment, he didn’t know. Why they had to use up every foot of floor space, why they had to fall asleep on his bed before tidying it up. Why they had to fall asleep together…

“What’s happened? Is it Justin, is he OK?” Bren sounded worried and Brian took a deep breath.

“He’s fine. They’ve got storyboards all over my fucking apartment.”

“They’re just setting it out, getting it ready, no harm, huh?”

“They’re both now fast asleep, on my bed. How cosy they look—touching each other.” He walked to the side of the bed, stepping over more drawings, resisting the urge to stamp all over them.

They still didn’t wake up as he moved closer. The two men who were more attuned to him than anyone else he knew, didn’t realise he was there. 

“Don’t do anything stupid. They’re both exhausted. Justin phoned me this morning, they’re working flat out to get this comic sorted. Neither are cheating on you. Especially with each other.”

He snorted and clenched his cell tighter. He didn’t know how Justin put up with the older man’s so called wisdom, it was annoying the fuck out of him. “I’m not in the kind of relationship where fucking another guy is ‘cheating’. We’re not breeders you know.”

“Stop being a dick, Bri, wake them up, and tell them to move all their shit.”

“Gotta go, later.” Brian flipped his phone shut and threw it onto the bed, both men moved, turning away from each other which diffused the situation slightly.

Brian saw Justin’s hand twitch in his sleep, saw how his fingers were swollen and how the support brace the doctor had given him seemed to be cutting off blood supply.

He kicked the mattress with his foot. “Wake up sleeping beauties,” he said, only the smallest hint of anger hidden in his words.

Justin woke first and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand in a similar manner to Gus. He blinked up at Brian, realising how he’d fallen asleep, and what state they’d left Brian’s apartment in.

“Shit, we wanted this all tidied by the time you got back.” He scrambled from the bed and started to pile up the pieces of paper. Brian stilled him with a hand to the shoulder.

“Leave it, and take off the brace before your hand falls off.” 

Justin unfastened the Velcro, pulled the brace off and threw it back on the bed before following Brian to the kitchen. “We are sorry, you know. We did start out at Mikey’s shop, but there wasn’t enough floor space, and then we kept getting interrupted at his apartment. This was the only quiet place.”

“It’s fine. I find two men on my bed without me there, but it’s fine.” He gave a dry smile.

“It wasn’t very interesting, you know, lots if sleep, a little drool, and from Mikey, lots of snoring.” As if on cue Mikey let out a loud snore. 

Brian listened to his best friend and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge. “He always was loud in bed,” he drawled before unscrewing the cap and taking a large gulp.

“I’m heading over to Bruce’s later. He offered to let me keep my tattooing kit at his studio, thought I’d go practice. I’ve forgotten how it feels to hold a tattoo gun in the palm of my hand.” He frowned and ran his fingers through his tangled blond locks.

“Good idea, you can join us at Babylon afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan. Come on, lets go wake Mikey.” Justin grinned mischievously and took the water bottle from Brian, stepping over their work.

Mikey lay on his back, arms spread over his head, snoring softly. Justin sneaked over to him and waited a few seconds, until he was sure he wouldn’t wake up, when he stayed in the land of nod Justin squirted him full in the face.

Mikey’s arms flailed as if he were drowning and woke up with a gasp, water dripping from the end of his nose. “You bastards!” He wiped his face and jumped off the bed.

“Ah-a, watch all our work, Mikey, you might drip on it.”

“I don’t believe you did that—I don’t believe you let him.” Mikey pointed at Brian making him smirk.

“Next time don’t fall asleep on my bed,” with my boyfriend was left out, but definitely understood, “We could have fucked right next to you and you wouldn’t have woken up.” Brian said taking the water back from Justin and draining the remainder.

Mikey walked to the bathroom to grab a towel, his face screwed up in disgust. “Oh please, do you want to give me nightmares?”


End file.
